Panic Room, Singer Salvage Yard, Sioux Falls, South Dakota,

September 24, 2009

Grace heard boots thundering down the wooden stairs and hurried through the doorway just in time to see Dean heading her way. She slammed the door shut and shot the bolt home triumphantly then turned to lean her back against the door, breathing heavily, her heart racing.

"Grace?"

She heard him through the door but didn't reply.

"Grace, it's me, Dean. Bobby let me in, tested me," he said running his hand through his still wet hair.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she mocked, bobbing her head up and down with each word.

"Grace, open the door."

"Not happening...whoever you are."

Dean pressed his forehead to the door, closed his eyes and sighed. "Grace, I'm not possessed. It's really me," he insisted.

"Oh, yeah? I got a good look at you and you don't look anything like my husband."

"Grace, I look pretty much the same. I'm just tired and I need a shave."

She could hear the desperation starting in his voice but she had to be sure.

"I don't think so, buster," she said and turned toward the door to add, "My husband's head is shaped like a penis."

Bobby had come down the stairs just in time to hear Grace's observation and laughed at Dean's gaping mouth and stunned look. The older hunter then surveyed him critically.

"I think she's right. Turning tail and running out on her was kind of a dickhead move."

Dean grimaced at Bobby's comments and asked tersely, "Are you gonna help me?"

Bobby just shook his head. "I'm sworn to protect Grace."

"I know, I made you swear but..."

"Just what exactly are your intentions toward the very pregnant, very emotional woman hiding in my panic room?" Bobby asked pushing Dean back from the door.

"To be with her 'til the day I die," he swore to which Bobby nodded.

"Bobby, is that weird dude still out there? I'm getting kind of hungry."

Bobby gave Dean a sympathetic look. "Good luck with that," he said then climbed the stairs back up to the main part of the house.

Above him Dean could hear Bobby's footfalls heading to the kitchen and called through the iron door, "What have you done with Grace?"

Grace wrinkled her nose and called back, "I'm still here, stranger."

"No way. Only a witch could get Bobby Singer to drop everything and make lunch."

Grace smiled. Bobby had been a Godsend since showing up in Cheyenne and insisting she go back to Sioux Falls with him. He waited on her hand and foot, literally wiping her nose when her emotions got the best of her all the while telling her it was all gonna work out. That Dean would be back and, low and behold, here he was with just the thickness of an iron door between them. But for how long?

"Let's say you are my husband, as you claim," she said, "Tell me something I don't know."

Jesus H. Christ. Now she was possessed by Chris Matthews and wanted to play hardball.

"Okay Grace, here goes." He took a deep breath. "My name is Dean Winchester and I tortured souls in hell..."

Grace took in a huge breath as well and held it.

"...and I liked it."

He was being honest to a fault which might not be such a good thing because Grace remained silent behind the door. He turned to go and suddenly he could hear the iron bolt as she unbarred the door. It opened slowly and he was heartbroken when he saw her tears. Stepping into the room his breath hitched as she backed away from him wiping her face on the sleeve of the sweatshirt she wore. It was one of his, one she'd found in an upstairs closet, one that still smelled like him. He watched as she tried to speak but for once in her life Grace Downey Winchester didn't have the words.

Grace had no words with which to judge him, no false platitudes to spout to try and make him feel better about his admission. She had no words to tell him how she felt about his revelation because, truthfully, at that moment she didn't know how she felt about it. Above all, even if she had the words, she would never presume to tell him how he should feel about what he'd done.

Dean took a shaky breath but, before he could speak, Grace held her finger up for him to wait a moment. He gladly accepted his reprieve and waited patiently through two false starts before she was able to speak coherently. He listened with hands balled into fists at his sides.

"Dean, I know that nothing I can say, nothing anyone can ever say, will ever be enough," she told him, her voice thick with emotion, "I just want you to know that I love you no matter what and with all of my heart. I just pray that it's enough."

Dean unclenched his fists, unclenched his jaw and unclenched his heart. He held his arms out to her, to gather her in close to him, and just held her.

His arms were strong; his broad chest a safe place to lay her head, his steady heartbeat always a comfort and Grace knew that no matter what happened to them or where they ended up if Dean Winchester was with her she would always be home.