Whitefish, Montana - 2001
"C'mon, Gracie, the cabin's up this way. It's not much, but it's a nice place to hide out when we need it." Dean was a few paces in front of her, hiking up the hill with most of their gear. "Rufus just started paving the way up here last month, otherwise I'd say we just drive all the way up."
"I didn't expect to go hiking just to get to our cabin," she laughed, trudging up the hill behind him. "How the hell does your dad think the people at the historical society are going to believe us saying we're FBI agents or something?" They stopped on the porch, Dean trying a couple keys until he found the right one. He answered as he opened the door into the dusty cabin, Grace taking her boots off before walking much further. "Does this place have running water?"
Dean set their bags down, throwing open the curtains in the main room and sending up a cloud of dust. "We tell them we're from the local college, working on our term papers or something. I just need to be able to see the area. We already know what we're looking for. We break back in at night, take down the ghost, and then we've got the rest of the weekend to hang out here."
"And what are we doing in an old, dusty cabin?" she asked, starting to put things in the fridge. "Hey, we've got electricity."
"I can think of a few things," Dean smirked as he opened a window. He stopped to sneeze, adding, "But first let's get this place cleared out. I don't think anyone's been here in a few months at least."
Their plans to stalk a ghost at the local historical society were pushed off by a massive thunderstorm that rolled in around dinner time. It was still pouring when they went to bed, squeezing themselves onto the camp bed that was set up in the corner of the smaller room off of the rest of the living area. "I hope you're not afraid of ghosts," Dean whispered, tracing endless patterns on her arm. "It's a dark and stormy night out there."
"I ain't afraid of no ghosts," Grace smiled, watching the night sky light up outside. The last embers of the fire they'd built in the old fireplace were starting to die as another roll of thunder made the windows shake. "Not a great idea to go ghost hunting if you are."
"Ah, don't worry. This is the safest place I know. No ghosts here." He pulled her closer as another bolt of lightning struck close by.
"Dean?"
"Hmm?"
"When I go away for school in a couple months, are you gonna keep hunting?"
The question he had been dreading. "I guess I am. I mean, Dad's not going to let me stop any time soon. I figured that out ages ago. It's our job. The family business, y'know? Not really something you can get out of. There's always one kid that has to carry it on." They never spoke about it, Grace's impending move to college. Sam had left a couple months back, fed up with their dad right after high school graduation. But she was staying, starting school in fall. She'd be across the country from Sam, but they still talked. Dean, though, would drop off the face of the planet with his dad. "Hey, you're always going to be my Princess Grace." He ran a hand through her hair, whispering, "I was made for lovin' you, baby."
"You were made for lovin' me," she finished the lyrics with a sigh. "I wish… I wish we could stay like this. I wish your dad didn't drag you around the country all the time. I wish you didn't have to fight monsters."
"I wanted to be a fireman when I was little," he confessed, "but now there's nothing I can think of that I'd want to do more than this. We get to help a lot of people. Sure, it's a tough job. We lose a lot. But we save a lot of lives. We help a lot of people. We get to see the country."
Grace rolled over so she could face him. "But you don't have a real home, and you can't have a real family like this."
"Gracie if I could marry you right now, if I could run away with you and - I'd do it. But this is who I'm supposed to be. Saving people, hunting things. It doesn't mean we can't be happy. We have the whole rest of our lives to change things. Just, right now, this is what I've got to do. I'll come back, I promise."
Another roll of thunder shook the cabin, everything suddenly quiet. The power had gone out, not that they had any of the lights on to begin with. "Well, there goes the heat."
"I guess you'll just have to hold onto me extra tight tonight. I'll keep you warm."
Whitefish, Montana - Present Day
Grace stretched out on the couch, the same couch that had been in the cabin for probably thirty years. Her laptop was balanced on her ever-growing stomach. Three and a half months in, and she was tired. She'd never slept this much, but now she was regularly sleeping in until almost noon. Everything had caught up to her, from the stress of the last few months to constantly being on the road to having an actual child.
Life in the cabin was pretty peaceful. She'd cleaned things up and taken up painting. She would go for walks down to the river behind the cabin every evening, watching for the deer that lived nearby. No one was around to bother her. On occasion she'd see a car drive by, but four people in the world knew where she was, and they all warned her before they came over.
Bobby would come up with a truck full of supplies, insisting that she didn't need to go into town to go shopping. Mary had stopped in once or twice while she was on the road to another hunt. Cas would stop in to keep her company when he had time. Sam spent the most time with her, strategizing about how to find Michael. He'd drive her to as many of her doctors' appointments as he could, and he'd cook dinner whenever he came by.
Most of her days were quiet, spent researching or working on the little garden she had going beside the patio. She was still working on her massive hunting database, adding more information every day. Whenever anyone came to visit from the bunker, they'd bring her new books and take the old ones back with them. It was lonely work, but there was no way she could even risk reaching out to Dean. Cas was right. If Michael knew where she was, he could use her to keep Dean from rebelling.
Sam had left a few hours before, Grace slowly getting up to make herself one last cup of tea before bed. It was nice having someone else in the house, being able to talk to someone other than the birds that would hang around looking for bread or the cautious deer that she tried to feed from the porch. It was nice being brought up to speed on what the hunters were up to, on who had moved and who was still in the bunker. Almost everyone had left by now, but they'd come to check in fairly often. Grace was just happy to have another real live person to talk to, instead of a voice on the other end of the phone asking for her help researching or wanting her to vouch for them to local law enforcement.
As she stared out of the kitchen window, Grace felt something shift in the cabin air. None of the doors had opened, and the air conditioning was still off. But something had changed. Something had moved. She turned around to see Dean standing in the kitchen, more dressed up than she'd seen him in a while. No, not Dean. Michael. "What do you want?" he asked, watching her bristle in fear.
"What?"
"What do you want? I want to know. What do you want most in this world?"
Grace thought for a moment before carefully approaching him, holding out her hand. "I can show you." Michael reached for her hand, Grace projecting the image into his mind.
Dean rolled off the couch, still exhausted from the hunt he'd come home from a few hours before. He hadn't wanted to wake Grace up, so he slept on the couch, knowing she was facing a mounting deadline and she needed her sleep. His eyes still bleary, he nearly tripped over the dog that had been lying on the ground next to the sofa, almost as if it was waiting for him to get up. "Huh?" He started to take in the house, realizing that there was a Christmas tree glittering in the corner of the room. It was starting to snow outside, and someone had turned the heat on. It wasn't a house he remembered being in before, and this all felt so much more real than a dream. He reached down to pet the dog, an older yellow lab that seemed to know who he was. He checked the tag on its collar, reading under his breath. "My name is Pumpkin, if you find me, please call Dean and Grace Winchester…"
He looked around, seeing that there were photo frames on the mantle. A good clue. One of them was of him and Grace, absolutely beaming on their wedding day. They were dressed up, like they'd had a real wedding. Another held a photo of them and Sam, leaning against the Impala. The Impala. He went over to the window, seeing that it was in the driveway. Good. Going back to the mantle, he picked up the last frame, studying it carefully. He and Grace stood together on a beach, two sunburnt kids standing in front of them. The girl had Grace's hair, but the boy next to her looked just like he had at five years old. "Dad?"
A little boy, the same little boy, had wandered in, still in his pajamas. "Mommy's working, and she said not to bother you but I can't reach the milk and I want a drink and Samantha's not helping."
"C'mon, buddy, lead the way." Dean followed the boy through the house, trying to remember how to get around. It felt like he was following his younger self into the kitchen. "Do you know where your mom's at?"
"She's in her office," the boy answered, holding up a cup for him to fill. "She was on the phone with Uncle Sam."
"I've got to go talk to her, but while I do that, why don't you pick out a movie? You don't have school today, do you?"
"No, it's a holiday," the boy laughed, taking off for the living room.
"Right." Dean walked into the hall, wondering if Grace would have her office upstairs or downstairs. He took a guess, heading down the hall, passing more family photographs along the way. Picking a door at random, he stepped into what looked like a smaller version of the bunker's library. Every wall was lined with books, save for the massive bay window that looked over the yard. Grace was sitting at a desk facing the window, typing away.
"Robbie, I told you I'd be done with this chapter soon. Our pie's not burning, is it?"
"Uh, no?"
Grace turned to look at Dean, immediately dropping her work so she could give him a hug. "Hey, you. I didn't hear you get home last night, and then I saw you out on the couch this morning. I'm glad you were at least able to make Thanksgiving and help the kids put up the tree. I told them you'd gone out Black Friday shopping," she smiled. "You look exhausted. I think I've still got some coffee in the fridge. If you wait a little while, I've got a pie in the oven. It should be ready soon."
"I, uh, thanks. What are you working on, Gracie?"
"I should be finishing up another American Mythology chapter, but I got sucked into helping a hunter out of New Mexico pull up some research on the barghest. They're aren't a lot of them that far west, but we live in a weird world." Her voice softened as she laid her head on his shoulder, saying, "Thank you for putting the tree up already. I know we've got nearly a month until Christmas, and Hanukkah's before that, but the kids were really excited. I hope it didn't cut into your hunting time all that much."
"No, we took care of everything just fine."
"Good. Hopefully you don't have to disappear right after Christmas dinner. Oh, Bobby called. Barring anything major, he's going to be able to make it. So we'll have him, Cas, your mom, Sam, Gen, their kids… it's going to be a full house for Christmas."
"Kids? Yeah, uh, it'll be good to see them all. We'll have to figure out who's sleeping where, but I don't see why the cousins can't all have one big sleepover. I'll put the tent up in one of the kids' rooms or the living room or something," Dean offered, still trying to figure out what was going on. Everything felt so right, and yet something felt off. Whatever was wrong, he was about to shrug it off. This was a nice world, with real family holidays and a warm, inviting house full of pie. It was the life that they had dreamt about. They were still hunting, of course, but they were finally safe.