.heart strings.

chapter one.

She could have turned away when she heard about the Winchesters. Like her grandmother said; "those boys are nothing but trouble"

But wasn't that always what Grace Morgan craved? Trouble, Suspense. The Thrill that left her clinging for more.

When she first met Sam and Dean, she was barely a hunter. Her weapon skills left something to be desired, but the thing that stuck out most was her uncanny ability to stray directly in-line of the creature's attack. It was a shame that the thrill she yearned for would someday kill her. But weren't all hunters doomed to that faith? They spared their once innocent lives for something that came with a horrific ending- the bloodshed was inevitable. They saved lives, sure, but in the end, who won really? Demons fought for their justice, hunter's only had so many defenses. She promised herself a new beginning, only others who had experienced it knew a hunter's life was an ending, of her unknowing youth. She had so much to live for, it was all lost.

But that was 3 years ago. People change. Grace's whole perspective on the term 'hunter' had changed. She had walked in those boots, learnt the ropes from her Uncle Noah. Her family had died when she was a lot younger; supposedly from a demon attack aimed at her father. Her Uncle was the last one left. Noah, the old guy with stubble and a beer gut, yeah, totally a role model for an aspiring hunter.

Hunting life changes you; all the goodness and depth to your heart is shoved aside to make was for the more intense, brooding pains. That was the price for saving so many innocent's lives. Should it be? Couldn't the saviors' have some recognition? It wasn't fair on Grace; her outlook was then so innocent. So young and careless. She made mistakes that cost her whole life; it was too late to turn back on the tarnished future that once held so much promise. Yes, it was the ultimate contract.

Present day, 14th May 2009.

A 23 year old Grace strides purposefully towards the bar. Her eyes trained on the back of the man's head; he's leaning over a half-empty glass of bourbon. He looks like Death.

She steps up to the bar stool, waves off the bartender with a flick of her hand. Then, she quietly sits. Her head turns to catch a glimpse of the man, He's not looking at her, he's staring pathetically into his bourbon- trying not to gain attention.

A flood of pity washes over her- wasn't his wife killed by a demon only two days ago? Shouldn't that bother her? It would bother any other normal person; although, hunter's didn't exactly fall under the 'normal' category.

Her voice breaks the somewhat dim atmosphere; she swipes a stray hair from her face as she turns to the alcohol-drowned man beside her.

"Excuse me? Are you Colin Hodgeson" Her voice isn't as smooth as she had wanted.

He takes a few moments to answer.

"Yeah…That's me"

The sorrow is evident in his voice, pressed into the small space between his eyes and the counter, his head is bowed in a last attempt to keep invisible.

She nodded, and reached for her ID from her jacket. She slid to him under her palm. He didn't look, though.

"I'm Agent Peterson. I'm here investigating your wife's death… so incredibly sorry, sir." She added the last part with genuine sincerity; she too, knew how it felt to have a loved one taken away from her. It was the worst pain imaginable, like a blunt knife to the heart.

She pulled herself from that sinking feeling; she shouldn't stray from her vow to be formal, quick. The condition of this man was so upsetting; she thought she should bail immediately. She couldn't handle the pain radiating from him.

Before she had a chance to quietly tip-toe away, a familiar voice shattered through her thoughts.

"Uh, Colin Hodgeson?" His voice was masculine, but it still held the roughness of a teenager's voice. His accent wasn't noticeable; he must have lived in many towns before this. She knew him, yet she couldn't bring up her face to meet his eyes.

Sam Winchester.

Grace had met Sam and his brother Dean nearly 3 years back during a hunt, Noah had introduced them. But she hadn't seen Noah in nearly a year now… She was going solo; he had even called her 'hostile' over the phone. That made it official, she guessed.

Her eyes flickered to his face, then back down to her shoes. She was standing opposite Colin Hodgeson, but she hadn't walked away yet. Neither Sam nor Dean recognized her; she doubted they'd remember her. The naïve schoolgirl trying to make it in the hunting world. The statement stung her behind the eyes.

"Grace? Grace Morgan?" Dean quickly huffed.

His recognition forced Grace to bring her head up. Her one finger caught a hair from her face as she smiled. She shouldn't be this nervous? Should she?

She wanted to clear her throat, but answered instead. "Yes" The words were even smaller than she had intended.

With further notice, she inspected the boys with stolen glances.

Dean stood one hand in pocket. He looked mostly the same as when she had last seen him, same short cropped hair, and that same mischievous grin. Although this time he was wearing a tuxedo, she recalled him holding out an FBI badge earlier. Just like hers.

Her eyes swept over Sam, trying to process the images and words that were spoken before her. He was almost the Same Sam she had met… His eyes were a lot more guarded, and his shoulders looked stiff. Amongst those changes, there were others. His hair wasn't as shaggy, but it still held the same boyish charm. His chest was a lot wider, and his eyes were now staring into hers.

Oh, Crap.

She looked away quickly, smiling slightly when Dean rolled his eyes at his brother.

"Yeah… That's me" Grace nods quickly, feeling her cheeks blush as Sam's eyes flicker over her. The tension hadn't changed, that was for sure.

Dean looked at Sam, and then looked back. He was still smiling, and then his lips opened.

"Well, you two can have your little reunion while I tend to these gentlemen." He said, gesturing to Colin Hodgeson who was now edging slowly away from the three.

Sam's jaw tightened and he glared at Dean for a further second, motioning for them to sit a nearby table.

Music played slowly, almost depressingly, in the background. It was a low howl of a voice; Grace couldn't tell if it was female or male.

Sam entwined his fingers atop the table. He began staring uneasily into Grace's eyes; it may or may not have been meant as an intimate gesture.

Grace felt her cheeks blush for the thousandth time.

"So" He started. "What's been happening lately?" And then his eyes flickered over to a stocky waitress carrying about twelve glasses in one hand. He didn't want to have this conversation.

"Not much, really. Just Normal Hunting Jobs. Well, you know normal for us." She smiled, Sam smiled too. "I've sort of been trying to gather information about this Collin guy, I'm pretty sure it's a demon I'm dealing with… But its striking in so many different areas, I'm staring to think Demon's"

"You think there is more than one?" Sam questioned. He may have been surprised, it was hard to decode for the little expression he was managing to restrain.

"Yeah, I mean, the clues are all there. Maybe this is another sign, you know, the apocalypse…" She quickly realised she should shut up and not mention Sam or Dean's hunting adventures, ever again.

But Sam's face was still, perfectly plain.

"It definitely could be."

She looked down, weighing her feelings. There was really only one at this point- complete and utter shyness. Did Sam know? Did he see her eyes flicker with wonder as his perfect lips moved, when he smiled?

"When did you start hunting with your brother?" Grace asked, pulling her hands from her lap, onto the table. She was really asking 'When did I see you last?' But that question was far too embarrassing. She knew that she met them both before they had left on their 'across-the-country-in-a-muscle-car-hunting-ugly-ass-monsters' journey.

He paused to think "Nearly three years… I think"

Grace nodded, watching his eyes flicker to his. The same green/grey eyes, where nearly three years older, three years stronger; fractured from those three years. Time took its toll on a hunter; she knew to well how it stung.

An awkward silence fell over them, Sam still had his jaws locked, almost like he was trying to keep some un-excusable string of swears inside his throat. And his eyes dropped to the table top, analyzing the grain of the wood.

Dean stopped beside the table, picking up the tension quickly. His grin faltered a bit, and he picked up words more slowly than before.

"So, I was wondering… If- Well, we are working the same job, right, so how about you come along for the ride?"

If the sexual connotations in the question weren't strange enough, Sam suddenly let in a startled breath.

"I don't know, Dean. I mean- Do you want to?" Sam looked directly at Grace, but only for a second. Her heart thudded loudly.

"I… Uhh…" "I don't know. I'd probably hold you back."

Dean pounced on the slight apprehension she spoke of. "No! No. Definitely not, I think we might need an extra hand on this one."

"You sure?"

"Yep." Dean nodded, smirking at his obviously uncomfortable little brother.

"Well… "Grace let the word trail off, Sam's eyes pierced into hers as if she were about to confess a murder. A horribly violent one too, she had killed 30 people with one butter knife, while intoxicated with magic marker fumes.

"Ok"

She knows Sam is in pain, she knows why, she knows how her face has brought every single blistering memory of the first time they touched. And then she left, people died, demons lived. And Grace never found it in her now strangled heart to return to him.

Because they were each others weakness, and it had only nearly killed her once.

Once too many.

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Ok, Next chapter coming soon!~I hope you liked it. I'd appreciate ctritique on this. =D thankyou for reading.