Chapter 2

Time didn't seem to register here. I spent a lot of my time wandering up the perfectly white halls and meandering towards the Gardens that I was still not permitted to enter. While I walked, I continuously inspected my hands and arms, looking for any remnants of the battle that had killed me. I hadn't seen a mirror here in Heaven, so I hadn't had the chance to inspect my entire body, but earlier, I lifted my shirt to inspect the calavera tattoo on my hip that had been split in half when Ouriel had murdered Faith, a few years ago. Though my daughter was now just fine, the scar that had remained across my tattoo served as a constant reminder to stay vigilant.

That scar was gone.

I couldn't really wrap my head around it, considering that the tattoo was still there. How could my tattoos exist in Heaven, but not my scars?

"You receive the body you picture yourself in when you are assigned to Heaven," Mahalia answered my unspoken question as she approached without my knowing. "You obviously picture yourself with the tattoos, but not the scars."

"Sammy did the same thing," I muttered, mostly to myself. "That's right. I forgot." I glanced towards Mahalia. "So that means my other body is gone?"

"Your family gave you a hunter's funeral," came Mahalia's simple reply. "This is the body you have now."

I closed my eyes, trying not to picture my family standing around my burning corpse, especially my kids. The image made me ache. Automatically, I felt again for the rings that I knew were not on my fingers. I missed the comforting clink of when I spun them absentmindedly on my hand.

"What am I supposed to do here?" I asked, using my hands to gesture to the stark white. "I've been here for… well, I don't know how long I've been here, but it's been a while and I still don't have a Heaven of my own, and I'm still not able to go into the Gardens. I feel like I don't really belong."

Mahalia clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Well," she began. "Technically, you don't belong. You are Nephilim."

"Really? We're still going to play the half-breed card?"

"Since Father pardoned you," Mahalia continued over my comment, looking annoyed, "you must be patient while we develop new sets of bylaws for your kind."

"I don't have a 'kind'," I used my fingers as air quotes. "I'm the only one."

"Your children are your 'kind'. Not half-breeds, but considerable mixes. Obviously very important ones, considering they are The Gatekeepers. You and your children have introduced an entirely new facet to the angel lineage." The angel paused, inspecting her nicely manicured nails. "Considering the weight of your wings, we have to tread very carefully."

"The weight of my wings? What does that even mean?"

Mahalia paused to consider me for longer than I felt comfortable. "You know very little about yourself or your abilities, Grace Winchester," she shook her head slowly, looking disappointed. "I would have hoped that if given the pardon you have received, that you would explore as much about yourself as you could."

"I thought I had."

Once again, Mahalia pressed her lips together and sighed. "Mm," was all she said.

…

"Grace!" I heard my name echo down the halls and turned, wondering who would be that excited to see me here. "Grace, I still don't believe that you're here. You shouldn't be here!"

Finally, rounding the corner, I caught sight of my mother approaching, looking as distressed as I had ever seen her. "Mom," I breathed, "hi."

Finally approaching me, my mother almost seemed to hesitate, giving me a grand once over. She stared beyond my face, almost looking up, but finally grinned when she made eye contact with me. Her resemblance to Serra was uncanny and almost took my breath away. I could feel the lump of emotion climb its way up my throat and I fought the tears as hard as I could, but as my mother reached to hug me, I could feel them fall from my eyes and land in her auburn hair.

"Oh, my beautiful girl," Evangeline whispered into my hair. "I'm so sorry that you're here."

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, realizing that my mother's scent was exactly the same as I remembered from when I was ten. She hadn't changed a bit, I mean, aside from the fact that she was dead.

"It's good to see you, Mom," I whispered. "I'm sorry I'm here, too."

…

My mother was able to enter the Gardens and I wanted to follow her, but I was hesitant. "Is it okay?" I asked as we approached the door to enter. "Mahalia hasn't given permission to come into the Gardens yet."

"Honey," my mom smiled back at me. "You're Nephilim and have been pardoned by Father himself. I'm pretty sure you can do whatever the hell you want." She gestured behind me and lifted her eyebrows. "Besides, you would outrank anyone I know with those."

I glanced behind me, looking to see what my mother was pointing at. "What?" I asked, confused.

"Your wings, honey."

"My wings."

Evangeline tilted her head, finally understanding my confusion. "You don't know," she muttered, shaking her head as she walked out into the sunshine of the Gardens. I, of course, had been here before, but I had not been invited then. "The size of your wings matters here. There's an entire, complicated ranking system among the angels. It's how they decide who is a Guardian, who is a Watcher…who is a Seraph and so on and so on." She smiled broadly at me. "I knew yours would be impressive, but—" Gesturing towards the sky above my head again, she shook her head. "Being a half-breed certainly didn't stunt their growth."

I was genuinely confused. My wings should be almost non-existent, considering I was human when I was killed. It was the whole reason I died in the first place; my grace had been sapped and I was unable to self-heal. Of course, I would have died under that strain.

Evangeline was already shaking her head. "No, no, no," she whispered as she led us into the sunshine, obviously tapping into Angel Radio and listening to my thoughts. "Your grace wasn't completely gone. It's the whole reason you were reborn as quickly as you were, especially with your wings intact."

It was my turn to shake my head. "Mom," I argued. "I haven't been able to use my abilities for months. It's gotta be why the hall collapse killed me."

"Then how did you tell Dean not to come after you?" she stared at me expectantly, with her eyebrows in her hairline and looked too much like Serra. It made me ache. "You didn't say it out loud."

I shook my head slowly, trying to remember my last moments alive. "I had to have," I muttered, feeling like I was repeating myself. "I haven't been able to use my abilities in months."

My mother shrugged and turned away from me, admiring a cluster of beautiful purple flowers. "That's your doubt talking," she replied nonchalantly. "You're always so timid about what you can do. It's what held you back on Earth." She turned back towards me and put her hands on her hips, "You are Nephilim. You are the most powerful being here, whether you believe me or not."

I couldn't help the look that crossed my face, "Oh, yeah right." Shaking my head, I took a deep breath and rolled my eyes. "I'm half and half. Half angel abilities and half human abilities; never really mastering either one."

"That's the one thing I wish I could do over when it comes to raising you, Gracie," my mother began. "Your confidence has never been where it should be, yet your sister's is overly so. That girl…" she smiled, nostalgic. "She probably has so much confidence because you raised her, not me. Never once told her she couldn't do something, huh?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "Mom, it was exactly the opposite. I told her she couldn't all the time. She just took it upon herself to constantly prove me wrong."