Chapter Ten
(A/N: Hello again, lovelies! No, your eyes do not deceive you, I am actually posting chapter ten! All through the duration of season 11, I felt like I made the right choice in ending the story where I did. Nowhere in all of the episodes did I ever see a point where I thought "Hey, Lacey would be perfect here." Until 11x20, "Don't Call Me Shurley," that is. There was a moment in that episode, towards the end, when I knew that I had to bring her back. I was up until the wee hours of the morning piecing together how I wanted to work her in. That being said, this chapter, and beyond, if it goes past this, contains MAJOR spoilers for season 11, so read at your own discretion. Oh, and enjoy!)
"You guys be careful, okay? I love you, Sam." I hung up the phone, placing it back on the counter and returning to my sandwich. They were currently in Hope Springs, some small town in Idaho that had shown some signs of things going hinky, investigating another possible Amara -type hit. Thinking of the Darkness made me shudder, involuntarily. I had never come face to face with Amara, thanks to Sam's promise of keeping me away from the things he deemed most dangerous, but the stories about her, and the evidence of her terror around the country was enough to chill me to the bone.
Birdie whined from her spot at my feet, begging for a slice of lunchmeat, and I looked down at her.
"What? I don't starve you," I stated, before accidently dropping a piece of roast beef from my plate. She was so spoiled. She scarfed it down, almost swallowing it whole, before padding off down the hallway towards Dean's room, looking immensely proud of herself. I was starting to think that my dog had abandoned me, choosing the eldest Winchester over the one who had been taking care of her all these years. When he was home, they were inseparable. When he was gone, she spent most of her time in his room, waiting for him to return. He had also warmed to her considerably. It was cute, seeing the unlikely pair of best friends.
After I finished eating, I opened up my laptop, sending a quick email to my tenants to make sure that the plumber had been by to look at the water heater, and then went back to browsing news stories, looking for any leads leaning towards the odd. With them both back out there, hunting full time, I felt useless sitting at home waiting for them to return, like some soldier's wife. I insisted on helping any way I could, and after a few weeks of constant cajoling, Sam finally bent, and allowed me to research for them, from the safety of the bunker's library.
Thanks to the rent I received from Mary's daughter and her new husband and the money I received from the sale of the bar, I didn't have to go back to work, but after living at the bunker for half a year, I knew that I would eventually go crazy with nothing to do, so I started working one or two days a week at the diner in town, just to get out. Looking at the clock, I knew that I would have to head over there soon for the lunch shift.
The sun was warm, shining on leaves that were just starting to change colors. Greens were mixed with a myriad of colors; oranges, reds, and yellows. Pulling into a parking spot at the diner, I waved to Melissa, one of my coworkers, through the window and walked in to start my shift.
"Where are the boys?" She asked me later, when we both had a moment between tables.
"Out of town on a job. They should be back by today or tomorrow."
"Girl, I don't know how you managed it. Those guys," she whistled, winking at me.
I giggled, waving her comment off with my hand. I was used to her fawning over the two handsome men in my life.
"And why haven't you brought your friend Cass back to see me? He's positively dreamy!" She smacked the back of her hand to her forehead, feigning a swoon. I giggled in response. She was apparently over the moon for the angel, from the moment I brought him in to the diner, and he was oblivious to her many advances.
"He's been busy." I replied, with a lie that wasn't far from the truth. He was busy, after all, letting Lucifer parade around wearing his skin. "And I've told you, many times, that he's not interested."
The first time I said that, she assumed that I meant that he was gay, and I didn't correct her. It was easier than the truth.
I worked until dinner, grabbing an extra apple pie out of the dessert case, and paid for it with some of the tips I had earned, before heading back to the truck and drove back home.
I left the pie on the counter, scribbling a quick "Welcome home!" on the box and headed to my room to shower. Birdie greeted me at Dean's door, following me into the bathroom.
Halfway through washing my hair, she started barking and pawing at the door, and I knew that the boys were home, sooner than expected. I hurried to finish, hopping out and wrapping myself in my plush bathrobe, dripping hair hanging down my shoulder. I opened the door and watched Birdie bolt out of the room, anxious to greet Dean and Sam. I followed her to the war room, and stopped short when I saw that they weren't alone. Birdie ran up to the newcomers, a young Asian boy, and a short man with curly hair and a beard, and stuck her paw out for a shake.
"Hey Birdie," the bearded man accepted her paw, before scratching between her ears. I shrank back, embarrassed by my state of undress in the presence of company. "Hi Lacey." He waved to me, before turning back to the guys.
I walked over, confused at how this complete stranger knew my name, but I made the assumption that Sam had maybe told him, and stood over by my boyfriend, who looked just as confused. Maybe he hadn't.
"How did you? Are you okay?" Sam stuttered out, looking at the boy.
"Yeah, I mean, you know, given the circumstances." He looked down, and then back at him, with a broad smile on his face.
"I don't mean to interrupt, but kind of a plateful here," the man in the tan jacket butted in. "And Kevin, you've been in the Veil long enough. It's time you had an upgrade." He waved his hand and Kevin morphed into a ball of light that drifted up, through the ceiling, and disappeared. All three of us turned to look at the man, mouths agape. What the hell had I just seen?
"Holy crap," Dean muttered, dumbfounded.
After Chuck, the man with the beard revealed himself to be none other than God, I had to grab the edge of the war table for support. No matter how many times my world had been tipped on its axis with a new discovery about the supernatural, I still found it hard to swallow when something new reared its head. Feeling overwhelmed, I excused myself, stating that I needed to change, but really, I needed to get away.
Once back in the bedroom, I leaned against the door, trying to take slow, controlled breaths, and slow my racing heart.
I knew, somehow, that I was in no danger, but the realization that a deity, the deity was standing 20 feet away from me, was close enough to my threshold of tolerance. I feel like I had taken to the supernatural world pretty well, all things considered. But even Sam and Dean looked shaken, so I knew my reaction wasn't irrational.
After I put clothes on, dried my hair, and braided it down my back, I hesitated in the room, delaying the inevitable. I took a deep breath, steeling myself to rejoin the group in the war room, but the second my feet were out the door, my courage dissipated. Instead, I headed to my studio, shutting the door behind me. I sat down in the antique rocker and pulled the guitar into my lap. With the wood grain under my fingertips, I felt infinitely more grounded. I had planned on spending some time working on my music this evening, anyway, before the surprise, and it seemed like the best thing to do to keep my mind from spinning out of control.
I looked around the room, for my laptop, and cursed when I realized that it was still sitting on the counter where I had left it earlier. Instead, I grabbed a guitar pick off of the soundboard and started strumming, my fingers forming random chords until the notes started to click into place. Playing the melodies of a few of my favorite songs, my mind started to process all that had happened in the short hour since Sam had returned home.
My family had always been devoutly religious. I was raised to go to church every Sunday, and when I would stay at my Gran's house when I was little, she and I would always kneel by my bed and pray before sleep. I only stopped after the accident that killed my parents. Their funeral was the last time I stepped into a church. Now, in the presence of God, I felt ashamed. I didn't think I could face him, after losing my faith.
There was a knock on my door, and I stopped playing.
"Come in," I said, quietly, expecting it was Sam. I was surprised to see Chuck standing there, holding my laptop in one hand, a coffee mug that read "World's Greatest Dad" in the other. I almost snickered at the irony.
"I thought that you would like this back." He handed me the computer, and I bit back the urge to ask him how he had known. I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.
"Thank you." I took it out of his hand, gingerly, plugging it back into the soundboard.
"Do you mind?" He gestured to the guitar, hanging awkwardly in my hand. I nodded, handing it to him.
"You play?" I wanted to pinch myself for such a stupid question. Of course he could play.
"It's a new hobby of mine." He held the neck in his left hand, sitting down on a stool near the rocking chair and ran his fingers over the strings. "Sam picked a good one for you."
I smiled, in spite of everything. He started strumming, the tune familiar, but I couldn't place it.
"They're happy. They think about you all the time." My eyes snapped up, tears starting to fill them, as the meaning behind his statement washed over me. "I thought you would like to know."
"Thank you," I managed to choke out, swallowing the sob in my throat. "God,"
"Chuck, just call me Chuck." He gave me a sideways smile, his blue eyes shining.
"Chuck," I took a shaky breath, tripping over what I was trying to say. "I'm sorry. I gave up on you, after,"
"I know," he interrupted, placing a hand on my arm. His touch was warm, comforting, and I felt relief wash over me like a wave. He readjusted his posture on the stool, propping the guitar on his knee. "Do you know this one?" He went back to playing the same tune he was before. I shook my head, my forehead scrunched up in concentration. "Carry on my wayward son," he prompted, singing the first few lyrics, looking at me to continue.
I knew why I couldn't place the tune before. The tempo he was playing much slower than the original Kansas version I grew up listening to.
"There'll be peace when you are done," I continued, sitting down across from Chuck, tapping my knee to keep the beat. After a moment, he joined me, our voices creating a melody. "Once I rose above the noise and confusion, just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion. I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high."
Sam entered the room close to the end of the song, silently listening to us, with a smile on his face. After it was over, Chuck handed my guitar back to me, winking, and excused himself to take a shower in one of the guest rooms.
"Guess you can add 'jam sessions with God' to your resume," he chuckled, stepping behind me and placing his hands on my shoulders.
"We live such a weird life." I placed my guitar back in its stand and rose, wrapping my arms around him. He returned the hug, leaning down to kiss me.
"That we do."
While the boys showered and unwound, I dug through the fridge looking for something to fix for dinner. There were two steaks, but it wouldn't be enough for all of us, so I grabbed my purse and left a note on the fridge that I was running into town.
Once in the garage, I looked at the empty spot where the Impala usually sat. If the guys didn't drive back, how had they gotten home? A quick glance around the room showed me that there were no new vehicles there. I didn't think much about it. I knew that Castiel could pop in and out whenever he wanted, and I know that he's transported, for lack of a better word, Sam and Dean, so why couldn't Chuck? I shrugged my shoulders and hopped into the truck.
At the grocery store, I grabbed a cart and headed straight to the meat counter, to grab a few more steaks. I also loaded up on more chicken, a few slabs of ribs, and other things. With the boys gone so often, I had made a habit of eating at the diner, instead of cooking for myself. So, with everyone home, stocking up was a necessity."
I made my rounds through the whole store, picking up things I knew we needed and some non-essentials. Dean's sweet tooth loved it when I baked, and with us having company, it was the perfect excuse to do so. With a loaded cart, I headed to check out, paid the bill, and followed the bag boy out to the truck, where he helped me put everything in the back.
"I'm back!" I announced to Dean, who was sitting at the table with a beer in hand and the pie from the diner. "Hey, help me with these? There's more in the truck. And don't eat all of that pie. I'm cooking."
He chuckled at my scolding, and headed out to grab the rest of the groceries, while I started putting things away. It took Dean two trips to get all of the bags from outside.
"Are we feeding an army, Shorty?" After he was done, he went back over to the table, back to his pie, but I had removed it, hiding it from him. "Hey!"
"I told you, I'm cooking dinner. Pie is for dessert." I pointed a finger at him, motherly, before laughing and finishing with the groceries. "Not that there was enough pie left for all of us, you glutton."
"I thought it was a gift. Sam doesn't like pie," he cried, indignantly.
"Sam likes my pie," I teased, winking at him playfully. His face screwed up in disgust. "I'll bake another one. There were peaches at the store that were just perfect for baking."
His face lit up. He was such a kid, sometimes. It was adorable.
"Want to help me bake?" I knew it was a reach. Dean would pitch in and help sometimes, but it was usually Sam who ended up being my sous chef.
"Yeah, I guess. Nothing better to do." He stood up, walking over to the sink to wash his hands. I tied my apron around my waist, offering to get him one too, which he declined.
"So, tell me about Hope Springs. What happened?" I had just dumped all of the ingredients for the crust in the mixer, and turned it on. Dean was washing and slicing the peaches for the filling.
"Not much to tell. Amara hit another town with her zombie-fog, but this one was just killing people, or making them kill themselves. We tried to keep everyone inside, but there were a lot of people lost."
I looked over at him, concern painted on my face, as he continued.
"We were holed up at the police station, and had taped up the windows and vents, but some of the fog had gotten through. When Sam fell, I thought we were all goners," I sucked in a breath through my teeth, feeling my stomach fall. When he heard that, he cursed under his breath. "He's fine. Chuck saved the day, just in time."
I always assumed that when I got a mission debrief from them, that they were sugar-coating the truth, never letting on how close to death they always came. This was proof that I had been correct.
Rubbing my eyes wearily, I turned back to the mixer, pulling the dough out with my hands.
"Thank God for that," I chuckled, half-heartedly, at the phrase that I had muttered, without thinking. "Dean, I know that you hate it when I get girly and emotional, but damn it, you guys terrify me." I looked over at him with tears in my eyes. "I can't lose either of you. You're my family."
Before the sobs could take over, Dean pulled me into a tight hug, rubbing my back.
"I know, kiddo," he whispered to me, resting his chin on the top of my head. "We're not going anywhere, I promise."
I pulled away first, wiping tears on the back of my hand.
"Who told you to stop slicing?" I pointed at the cutting board, joking to clear the tension from the air around us.
"You're such a tyrant," he replied with a smirk, picking up the knife and returning to the fruit.
We worked in silence, until the pie was assembled and placed in the oven.
"Oh, hey, where's Baby? She wasn't in the garage." His face changed, like a light bulb had gone off, and he left the room in a hurry, shouting Chuck's name. I chuckled and started preparing dinner.