Chapter 8
Dean
Grace and Lib were lying on the bed when I walked into our room. Grace played with Lib's toes as she squealed with delight at her mother's touch. I knew that she heard me come up the stairs, but she didn't look up in greeting. Her mind was still elsewhere.
"Hey, gorgeous," I said quietly.
"Hi stranger," she responded.
I walked to Lib and smiled at her and chuckled to myself. "I was talking to Libby," I said, teasing Gracie. I bent to nuzzle Lib's face and spoke only to her. "Isn't that right? I was talking to my beautiful Meatloaf."
Grace smiled lightly and shook her head, not responding how I would have expected her to. My anxiety was returning as I watched her from out of the corner of my eye. She rubbed her face with both of her hands and laid all the way back onto the bed, stretching out. Reaching out with one hand, she pulled a pillow on top of her face and continued to lay there, silent.
"You're the only psychic that lives here, baby," I pressed softly. "I know there's something going on in that big old brain of yours, but you need to use words."
From under the pillow, she shook her head.
"Still not words, wife."
Grabbing the pillow and dragging it off of her face, she sighed. "It's because I don't have words for what I'm hearing and what I'm seeing."
I sat down, picking Libby up off the bed and holding her against my chest. She was close to sleep and if I held her, she would cave in a matter of minutes. Turning towards Grace, I kept my trap shut and just waited.
"They're everywhere, panicked, fighting over the throne. They can hear me, like a beacon, but they can't get to me. They just keep repeating, 'the nephilim killed him.' 'Wait for revenge.'" Grace spoke in a voice I hadn't heard before, low and mystical. She sounded just like how you would picture one of those mind-reading gypsies to sound. "They're coming, but I don't know when. And I don't know how to close myself off anymore. Since…since Crowley, I can't close off the way I used to. It's like a part of me is still broken."
"Have you talked to Cas about it?" I asked, starting to feel more than anxiety.
She shook her head, still refusing my stare.
"Why?"
"Because he's already fixed me twice. And the last time he tried, he was down for the count for three days, Dean," she said, finally looking at me.
I reached out to hold the hand that lay next to me and I squeezed. She squeezed back, but the look on her face was full of pain and it cut me down to the bone. "Grace, what? What's the matter?"
"I don't understand how you can still be so dedicated to me, Dean. I'm not even close to the same person you married and all I've done the entire time is cause problems. I'm a mess—"
I've had enough. "Stop, Grace."
"What?"
I sat on the bed and stared at my wife. I've never been good at sharing my feelings and thoughts and it's one of the luckiest parts of my life, being married to a real-life psychic. She knows when I'm telling the truth, when I'm hiding something and she always knows my real feelings about anything we talk about. There's no bullshit. I had no words for what I wanted to say to Grace, but I knew that she could hear me and I did my best to isolate the thoughts that meant the most.
Seeing her in her wedding dress.
Holding Lib for the first time.
Meeting her in the bar that first night that I never wanted to end.
In the hospital, watching her open her eyes after thinking I had lost her after she had been shot.
Gauging her reaction after giving her the Chevelle.
Holding her tight after finding out she was pregnant.
As I thought of these scenes, I watched Gracie's eyes fill with tears. "There's nothing I would change, Grace. You are everything and I feel like I keep telling you that. You're not gonna shake me loose, honey. This is just a bump."
"There have been a lot of bumps," she said quietly, still hiding her face.
I shrugged, Lib's face hot against my shoulder. "I like it bumpy." She smiled and I knew that I had gotten somewhere. "It'll just be us for a few days while Sammy and Serra are gone. I think it'll be nice to have our own routines for a change."
Sitting up, Grace nodded. "Yeah, I know," she was saying, "but the demons worry me."
"They can't see us," I said, unconcerned with something as trivial as a demon. Fuck, I had been one. They didn't scare me. "And they can't possess you without permission, it seems. A little perk of being half and half, I think." She nodded again. "So like I said, I'm not worried. Meatloaf has her mark," I held up Lib's right foot and on the bottom was the hand-drawn pentagram that Sam and I maintained. "We're hidden."
"Did you talk to Sam about Serra's tattoo?"
I nodded, remembering. "I forgot, but I'll remind him. I'm sure it's already on his mind. They'll probably go when they're on the way to Corpus Christi."
Serra had a lot of tattoos and I always thought it was weird that she didn't have a protective mark yet. I knew Sam wouldn't want her in danger, so I knew that would get taken care of soon. Grace sighed and nodded. "I've been a real pain in the ass lately, haven't I?"
"Yeah, you have," I said, kissing her. "But I know what I signed up for." I winked at her and stood, holding out my hand to help her up. "Come on, you missed my fight with Serra."
"You fought with Serra again?" she said, overly exasperated.
I nodded, proud. "Yeah, we really hashed it out. Look." I concentrated on me and Serra, downstairs. Grace closed her eyes and watched the memories flow through my brain and I saw her eyebrows narrow and then raise as she saw what happened. "It's all good."
Opening her eyes, Grace smiled. "She's not possessive. She's protective." She poked my arm, "Just like you."
I grabbed her finger and pulled her in for a kiss. We made a Libby Sandwich and hugged, and I could feel that Grace was on the mend. I was no psychic, but I knew enough about her to know when I was helping.
