Chapter 14

Dean

The next few days were a blur of activity; everyone was still on the new baby high. Grace was in the bathroom more often than not, just like with Liberty, and I did what I could to make her more comfortable. The only thing I saw her eat was plain Cheerios from Libby's stash and the occasional Sprite. Lib seemed to know something was different, too. She had attached herself to Grace's side, unwilling to be separated for very long. It made me wonder about our eldest's psychic abilities or at least her intuition. She climbed over Grace every chance she got, making sure to be in the spotlight all of the time.

I left for work early one morning; the Golden Goose was finally going home to her new owner. I wanted to make sure the paperwork was in order and that her clear coat had set properly. I kissed my girls goodbye, headed out the door and drove off, thinking everything was the same. Little did I know, Cas had appeared in the middle of the kitchen as soon as the door shut behind me.

…..

"Hey Cas," Grace said, greeting her friend as she chewed a mouthful of Cheerios. "What's the word?"

He greeted Liberty with a wide mouth smile before he addressed Grace, "Hello, tiny Winchester!" Picking her up, he turned back to Grace and the serious look crossed his face again. "I've seen some things lately, and I wanted to know if you have seen them as well."

Grace shook her head, "Honestly, Cas, a-bombs could be going off in my backyard. I've been so sick, I haven't noticed anything except the fact that our bathroom upstairs needs a deep cleaning."

Cas ignored her comment and nodded slightly. "The demons have been on the move lately, circling the house again, watching your routines. Take adequate precautions, Grace."

"We always do, Cas," she said. Glancing at Jody she raised her eyebrows, "You hear that, Jody? Keep an eye on your six."

She nodded from her spot at the kitchen table. "Noted," she said, taking a drink of her coffee. "We'll hang out in the panic room for the next few days. Naptime safety."

Castiel seemed pleased at the responses from the women in the kitchen and put Liberty down. She toddled away, exploring the world. Cas looked back up to Grace and smiled lightly. "I heard about you and Dean procreating again. Congratulations are in order."

"You make it sound so romantic," Grace laughed, taking another handful of Cheerios out of the bag. "Thanks, Cas."

With a swoosh of his wings, he was gone and Libby was left waving to the air; her tiny hand opening and closing to the open space of the kitchen.

Grace walked over to her daughter and picked her up, nuzzling her face and kissing her cheeks. "Okie dokie, love. I've gotta go to school."

"School," Libby repeated. "Love."

"I love you too, baby girl." Grace put her down, gave Jody a wave and grabbed her bag and her keys. "See you later, guys. Home by three-thirty."

Jody smiled, walking over to Libby. "Sounds good, sweetie. See you later."

Grace walked out of the door, pins and needles crawling up the back of her neck, an ominous feeling settling into her chest. She glanced back at Liberty and Jody, smiled lightly and closed the door.

…

"Dean, call on line two," Eric's voice echoed through my bay as I smiled at Gooses' new owner and shook his hand.

"Excuse me," I said, walking over to the phone hanging on the wall. I glanced at the clock; nine o'clock. "This is Dean," I said, clearing my throat.

"Hello, Dean. This is Julia from Grace's school?"

My heart stopped and panic swept through my body. "Hi, Julia. What can I help you with?"

"Is Grace home sick?"

The searing heat from the fear that flowed through my veins burned. "No, as far as I know, she left pretty soon after me for work. She's not there?"

Julia answered quietly, "No, and we haven't been able to get a hold of her on her phone. It's not like her to not call in. We're a little worried."

A little? I thought, my eyes, burning with trepidation. I closed them, counted to three and took a deep breath. "I'll call and I'll try her sister, too. Maybe she knows something."

"Please call us back and let us know. We're concerned," Julia said, "Please?"

I nodded at the phone, trying not to take off running. "Yeah, sure. I'll call back in a bit." I slammed the phone down and pulled my phone out of my pocket. No missed calls. No texts.

Panic. All I felt was wild panic. I dialed Serra's number and waited patiently. One ring. Two. Three. On the fourth ring, I hung up, trying to keep my wits about me. I dialed Sam's number immediately after.

Thankfully, he answered on the second ring. "Hey, Dean, what's up?"

"Have you heard from Grace today?"

Sam was confused, "No, why?"

Putting a hand over my face, I clenched my jaw together. "How about Serra? Have you heard from Serra?"

"She's at work, Dean. Why?" Sam adjusted his position in the chair he sat on. The squeak came through the speaker to my side of the phone. "Dean. What's happening?"

"Grace never showed at work this morning." The words tumbled out of my mouth like bile; bitter and disgusting. "I can't get her on her cell either."

Sam was silent on the other end of the phone. "What do you want me to do?" My brother knew me well; he was already in business mode, knowing that the best thing for me is to boss him around.

"Get a hold of Serra. See if she's heard anything. I'm gonna call the school back and retrace her steps." I was already heading towards my locker in the back of the building. "It could be something as simple as morning sickness on the side of the road."

"On it," Sam said, hanging up the phone.

I walked straight to the leather jacket Grace bought me in New Orleans and I put it on, heading now to the front desk. "Eric, call Tommy to come in and cover my shift. I gotta go."
"You gotta go?" he repeated, confused. "You're the floor supervisor right now."

"Family emergency, man," I said, shrugging. "You need to figure it out." I didn't hesitate any longer and threw myself into Baby. Like a rock star, she started right up, and we peeled out to retrace Grace's routine steps. I held my phone to my ear, still waiting for Grace to pick up the phone. "Come on, Gracie. Pick it up."

One. Two rings. Three. Four. "Hi, this is Grace. Please—"

I slammed the phone down on the seat next to me as I punched it. Baby flew down the highway, kicking up leaves and dust in her path. I turned hard around the corner to the road that led to our house. I picked up my phone again, holding it in my hand, debating whether or not to worry Jody just yet. I slowed down enough to stare down our driveway minutes later, pausing long enough to see if Grace's Chevelle was still parked in front of the barn. The telltale purple car wasn't there and I swore under my breath.

I made the decision to call Jody, knowing Grace's car wasn't there. Her phone rang twice before she picked up. "Hey, Dean, miss Lib already?"

"When did Grace leave for school?" I said, ignoring Jody's sentiment.

"What? Same time as always," Jody responded, her voice rising an octave automatically worried. "Why?"

"Fuck," I said, closing my eyes.

"Dean, you talk to me. What's happening?" she said, going into Sheriff mode.

"Grace didn't show for work this morning. She's not answering her phone." I made a u-turn while talking to Jody and tore off down the highway again. "I'm gonna retrace her route, see if I can find anything."

"Have you tried Serra? Maybe they're together?"

I shook my head, "Serra didn't pick up either, and if they're together, they're gonna get an earful about responsibility." I rubbed my face again, trying to stay focused. "Holy shit, they'd better be together so I can yell at both of them for giving me a coronary."

"Get to driving, calm down, and I'll make a few calls," Jody soothed. "Is the GPS on in her phone?"

"Yeah," I said. "Trace it, will you?"

"Will do. Call me if you hear anything." Jody hung up the phone almost immediately and I turned west, heading back towards Grace's school on the route she normally took.

Minute by agonizing minute passed as I searched the highway for Grace's Chevelle. I ended up at her school with no sign of it. Tracing back down the only other route, I headed back for the Big House. As I rounded the bend towards the farmland that surrounded our property, I saw fresh skid marks on the opposite side of the highway. There was no one behind me, so I threw it into reverse and backed up along the path.

They were new; I could still smell the rubber. I parked on the side of the road, got out of my car, and stared at the pattern of the tire treads. One set was from a larger vehicle, a pick-up truck, maybe, and the second set was from a smaller, but heavier car. The smaller car hit its brakes, hard; a dragging rubber pattern was imprinted on the road. Then, as I walked the lines, the truck had impacted the smaller car, pushing it into a spin. The small, heavy car had made a figure eight as it was pushed off the road. I glanced up and stared into the tall grass and woods that surrounded the road. The heavy skid marks ended in the gravel, but the truck's marks were still there, meaning one of two things: the heavy car was towed away after the wreck or it had flipped, its tires leaving the pavement entirely.

I walked into the gravel, my heart in my throat as I looked down into the ravine on the side of the road. There it was, Grace's purple Chevelle, upside down at the bottom of the creek.

"Grace!" I screamed, jumping down, panic ripping through my chest. "Gracie!" I made it down the side of the ravine, pounding on the side of the Chevelle. "Grace!" I continue to yell. I ran to the driver's side and saw that the door had been ripped open and drag marks were across the dirt, where I assumed someone had pulled her from the wreckage.

I struggled to stay controlled. Think, Winchester, think, I told myself, trying to figure this out. "If she had crashed, there would have been phone calls. Someone would have called me," I said aloud, keeping myself focused. "There would be a tow-truck, pulling Smoke on the Water out of the creek." I knew this because we had wrecks at the shop all the time, usually brought by the local tow-company whose logo still made skin crawl.

Shit shit shit shit, I couldn't help myself. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Jody's number again, waiting for the ring in my ear.

"Anything?" she said, answering on the first ring.

I turned back to the Chevelle. "I found her car at the bottom of a creek bed, flipped over."

"Oh my God," Jody whispered into the phone. "Is she alive?"

"She's not in the car," I said, close to tears. "There's drag marks leading away from the driver's side, like someone pulled her from the car."

"The hospital would have called you, Dean," Jody said, still in Sheriff mode.

I nodded, agreeing. "I know. Someone took her."

"Who would take her, Dean?"

I glanced up at the sky, considering the demons from a year ago. "I don't know." I gasped, trying not to lose it. "What do I do, Jody?"

"We trace her phone. Then we'll go from there." She hung up, and I stared at my phone, hesitating only for a minute.

I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled as far as I could into the Chevelle, looking for anything I could find that would point me in the direction I needed to be in order to find Grace. Her purse was in the back seat, her school bag tossed with papers everywhere. The contents of her purse were all over the car, scattered from the flip. I held my phone out and dialed Grace's number again, wondering if her phone was simply still in the car. I couldn't hear it ring, so at least it might still be on her. It occurred to me, as I backed my way out of the car, that I needed to call her school back. I dreaded that phone call, mainly because saying it out loud meant it was real.

From my position on the ground, I dialed the school where Gracie worked and explained that she had been in a car accident and that I would keep them posted.

I gave myself two minutes on the cold dirt to fucking freak out. I held my head in my hands and ran through the last few days in my head, trying to piece together any sign that Grace had given off that she may have heard or seen this coming. I came out empty handed, knowing that the last few days had been all about the new pregnancy and we hadn't really had the time or energy to deal with anything else. I mean, hell, she had been sick for most of the time that she had been conscious, so if she had seen anything in that psychic fifty/fifty head of hers, she may have been too tired to give it much thought.

My phone rang from its position on the ground next to me. I glanced down to see who it was, a fleeting glimmer of hope passed through me, thinking it might be Grace.

I shook myself out of it and picked it up to answer, "Anything, Sam?"

"I can't get a hold of Serra either," came my baby brother's response. His voice was tight, afraid, just like mine.

I stood carefully, avoiding the open door next to me. "What do you mean? Her phone or at the hospital too?"

"They haven't seen her come in today. Her shift started at nine." I glanced at the watch on my wrist. 9:22. "Have you found anything?" Sam continued, breaking my thought process.

"Yeah," I said, turning to stare at Smoke behind me, covered in mud, scraped and collapsed in the worst kind of ways. "I found Grace's car."

"What?" Sam gasped, "where?"

Closing my eyes, it hurt to say it aloud again. "Flipped at the bottom of a creek bed."

"Meet me at home," Sam said, obviously standing from whatever he had been sitting on. "I'm retracing Serra's path and I'll meet you there in twenty minutes. Call Jody and see if she can run a trace on the girls' phones."

"I already did. Nothing yet."

"Dean," Sam said, his voice commanding, taking charge. "Grace needs to you to stay focused. Let's use what we know and we'll figure this out."

I nodded, slamming the upside down door shut after grabbing Grace's wallet and keys. I climbed back up the gravel slope and glanced at the tracks left by the pick-up truck again. They left a muddy trail after coming off of the pavement and headed off in the same direction. "I'm onto something," I said, "I'll call you in a bit. I'm not going home."

"Dean, come on," Sam pleaded. "We need a plan."

"Follow up with Jody," I said, getting back into my car. I threw her in drive and kicked up gravel as I drove across the median to follow the trail left by the pick-up. "I'll call you later."

I hung up the phone, flooring it and was on high alert as I drove down the road.

Fifteen minutes out into the boonies, there was a t-intersection. A fifty/fifty shot at picking the right direction. Of course, I thought to myself, weighing my options. I had no idea what was to the east, but to the west, Sutton Cemetery was only four minutes away. If I went with my gut, I would turn right. I stared down the road to the east and didn't feel right about it. West it is.

As I approached the gates to the cemetery, flashes of the past crept through my brain. Big shit goes down at this cemetery, and this, apparently, was no exception. A small pick-up was parked near the mausoleum in the center of the field. On high alert, I idled my way through the gates and shut of the engine.

There was no one there, but I still took every precaution in the book. I hurried to the back of the Impala, opened her trunk and loaded my pistol and took three extra clips. Checking all of the other ammo boxes, I was surprised to find that everything else was empty. "Fuck," I said quietly, searching for more ammunition. "Nothing?"

I grabbed the box of shotgun shells that remained, still loaded with rock salt and let the trunk lid close as I took the sawed off with me. Cocking the shotgun with one hand, I dumped the extra shells into my pockets, putting two in my mouth as I lowered the deck lid. Sneaking as quietly as I could, I crept towards the pick-up and aimed the shotgun into the open windows. Nothing.

Running around to the other side, I opened the door quietly and searched through the glove box and under the seats. My hand came out bloody when I felt under the seat and glancing down to see its source, I could see mud and gravel mixed together with it, rubbed along the side of the bench seat. "Grace," I muttered, knowing it was hers.

Out of nowhere, I could hear the familiar ringtone blasting into the eerie silence of the cemetery. Grace was the only thirty-something kindergarten teacher that had "Smoke on the Water" as her ringtone. Momentarily, a bit of pride sailed through my mind, searching for the phone before it stopped ringing.

"Jackpot!" I whispered, pulling it out from under the seat. It was alight with Jody's GPS tracking call. I let the ring stop and pulled my own phone out of my pocket, ready to call Jody back. I glanced around behind me to make sure I was still alone and held the phone with my shoulder as I kept watch, keeping my gun at the ready.

"Anything?" Jody answered on the first ring.

I whispered in response, "I found the truck that pushed her off the road. I'm at Sutton. Again." I whipped around, thinking I heard movement. "I've got blood and her phone from the truck, but no sign of anyone else."

"Come home and we'll regroup."

Shaking my head, I continued to whisper. "No, Jody. Serra's missing too. Sam just called me a few minutes ago and she never showed at the hospital."

It was Jody's turn to whisper, "Oh my God."

"I know," I said, my stomach doing another flip. "Sam's gonna retrace her path and see if he can find anything. If he calls, send him here."

"Will do."

I hung up and gently closed the door of the pick-up. Taking my time, I made a loop around the entirety of the cemetery, looking for any more signs from Grace or her attackers. She was smart. I knew if she had been conscious when they took her, she would have done anything in her power to leave me a breadcrumb or two. So far, her phone and her blood were the only things I could find.

About to call it, I walked back to Baby and opened the trunk to drop the sawed-off back into the hidden space under the deck lid. Checking behind me again, I popped the trunk and noticed matted grass and gravel scattered around a muddy hole near the mausoleum. Trotting back over to the small building, I stared at the tracks in the ground. There had been a scuffle; two sets of large boot prints surrounded one set of smaller footprints made by someone wearing flats, just like the ones that Grace wore to work this morning. She stood on her own here, I thought, trying to piece together what may have happened. The heavy boot marks looked like they were ushering her forward; the bigger imprints were deep. She gave them some trouble.

The next set of foot prints were paired with an imprint of a body…someone had hit the ground, hard. The impression in the mud and grass was too big to be Grace. "Good girl," I whispered, continuing up the path to the mausoleum. She tried to take off here, the toes of her flats getting muddy as she broke out into a run. Following the imprints about five feet off the path, there was a scorch mark in the dampness; either something small caught on fire in the dew or my kick-ass wife smited a demon after she had been in a rollover crash. I would bet my life on the fact that she was down to one attacker.

There, in the gravel near the path was where the lone assailant had managed to overpower her; Grace's body had hit the mud here, hard. There were drag marks as he must have tried to pick her up unsuccessfully leading back to the path of the mausoleum. Once the footprints hit the cement, they disappeared. The trail was cold.

I ran back to the Impala. Now I knew two things: Grace was alive and fighting, and she had been taken by demons.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I called Jody back. "Dean?" she answered immediately.

"Forget Sutton for now. They're not here. Demons took her, she was able to smite one of them after a scuffle. I'm betting the one that was left pulled her into the mausoleum. I'm thinking it's a doorway."

"A doorway to where?"

Saying it out loud would be painful, but it needed to be done. If the demons took Grace (or Serra for that matter) it would be for retaliation for Crowley. They would have wanted to take her to the one place where they felt completely in control.

"Hell," I said, closing my eyes against the idea of my pregnant wife in The Pit. "We need to get a hold of Cas. You and Lib need to be in the panic room until further notice."

"We're already down here," Jody said quietly.

I nodded, thankful for my friend. "I'm gonna meet up with Sam. He's retracing Serra's path. We'll be in contact."

"You be careful, you hear?"

"Thank you, Jody."

…..

Grace woke up with chains attached to her wrists, pulling her arms away from her body, crucifix-style. She sat on a cold, muddy floor and attempted to clear her head. Licking her lips, she tasted blood and wondered how terrible she actually looked; flashes of flipping the Chevelle crept through her mind, but the last thing she remembered was being hit over the head with the butt of a gun. The welt on her forehead throbbed with pain and she was pretty sure it bled as well.

She took a deep shaky breath, breathing in the stale smell of the cell and attempting to look around as much as she could. The place looked medieval: bars across the opening of the room that she was locked in, and the chains that bound her had to be at least five hundred years old. The iron was heavy and it was exhausting to have her arms extended the way they were.

Replaying the last few hours in her head, Grace tried to piece together what had happened. I got ready for work, kissed Lib. Said goodbye to Jody. Closed the door, but had a bad feeling in the back of my mind.

Grace had gotten into Smoke on the Water and drove away, the radio playing some of her favorite songs since Dean had installed an aftermarket stereo in the dash. Nothing had been out of ordinary until she had picked up a tail. Remembering how she tried to lose the pick-up, she shook her head at her reactions; they had dulled without use. The pick-up had pit-maneuvered her; ramming the back corner of the Chevelle just enough to send her into a spin. Grace had tried to gun it, back the opposite way from the truck, but he hit her hard, pushing her up onto two wheels and forcing her off the road. Before she had a chance to do anything else, he had shoved Smoke towards the gravel shoulder of the highway and she had flipped completely, flying down the embankment, rolling three times.

Grace shook her head again, remembering blacking out momentarily. Before she knew it, two men had grabbed her by the shoulders, dragging her out of the car. She flashed to the bits of conversation that she had heard, coming in and out of consciousness.

"There's a baby seat in the back."

"Yeah, she's fucking Winchester. They must have a kid."

"Which Winchester?"

"The short one."

What the hell? Grace thought, still stunned as to what had happened over the course of the morning. Continuing through her thoughts, she came to the arrival at Sutton. A cold fear had pressed its way into her chest. The last time she had been here hadn't gone well. Killing Crowley flew through her mind again and somewhere deep in her chest, she knew that was the reason she was here.

The two men dragged her out of the pick-up upon arrival at the cemetery. She had a jolt of adrenaline as she made a break for it, punching the lead man in the face and attempting to make a run for it. They had tackled her, taking her to the ground and she did everything she knew how to do to keep them from taking her easily. One of her hands had been free long enough to touch one of them on the forehead, palm out. She closed her eyes and burned him from the inside. He left a smoking stain on the grass in front of her, just the way that other demons had in the past. Demons, she thought, figuring out more details. Revenge for Crowley.

Holy shit, Grace thought, panic ripping through her. I'm in Hell.