"You had a history?" Eileen signed, raising an eyebrow. "You and Sergei?"

"Not that kind of history. We met on a hunt in Belarus. He nearly got me killed, but I managed." Grace pursed her lips, watching Sergei work. She'd seen some of the mixtures Sergei was using before, but others were new to her.

Eileen looked to her, glad they could communicate without having to talk in front of Sergei. Neither of them trusted him very much. "I thought you had stopped hunting after you went to school."

"I did, but I still kept in contact with Bobby. I was one of the few hunters who would drop everything for a tough case across the world. He called me, I went, and I ran into Sergei, who left me in the woods with a witch and her bewitched house. I wouldn't call us friends."

"What are you ladies discussing?" Sergei asked, interrupting both of them.

"Nothing too important," Eileen assured him. "Are you almost done?"

Sergei turned, giving them an ultimatum as his spell left Sam in more pain than ever, quickly draining what was left of his life force. "He is going to die unless you give me the key to Death's library."

The three of them immediately launched into action. Eileen was the first to reach him, pinning him to the wall by his neck. Grace had one hand on her gun, Cas taking out his phone calmly. "Not gonna happen," Grace told him, pushing the gun into his side as Eileen held him to the wall. "Fix it, or you'll die before he does."

"All these artifacts in here, it is a black key with a skull -"

"Not going to happen," Eileen repeated, pressing on his windpipe as Cas pulled something up on his phone. "Reverse whatever you just did."

Cas turned the image to Sergei, countering his ultimatum with, "Your niece is a sweet girl. It would be a shame if anything happened while you were supposed to be taking care of her. Bobby Singer's been watching her. One word from me and she dies, and then you die. Are you sure you want to take that chance?"

Sergei relented, Eileen letting go of him so he could wake Sam up. As soon as Sam gasped for air, Cas turned to his acquaintance. "Time for you to go."

"I like this you, Castiel. It's very… Russian." He grabbed his bag as Grace came over to steer him out of the room.

"Alright, c'mon." Grace pushed her gun into his back, marching him out. "You want Russian? Poyekhali bezmozglii, urodlivii zmeu. Next time I will shoot you."

Eileen looked to Cas, knowing he could understand. "What did she call him?"

"Roughly translated? A brainless, disgusting snake," Cas answered, watching to be sure Sergei didn't give her any trouble. "Less roughly translated… well, I'll just say I wouldn't want to have been there in Belarus." Sam sat up, taking stock of where he was, Cas beginning to explain what had happened while he had been knocked out.

Grace had gotten halfway down the stairs when the bunker door opened again. Instinctively, she drew her gun, thinking that Sergei had come back. "Woah, okay, slow down there," Dean said, holding his hands up. "It's me."

Lowering her weapon, Grace had to figure out what she wanted to go with first. Instead of going off on how irresponsible it was to just disappear, she set her gun on the table and hugged him, Dean kissing the top of her head. "Sam's going to be okay. We couldn't fix the wound, but he's a lot better off than he was a few hours ago. Cas - Cas is back, and you two need to sort your shit out, because we can't be fighting each other and Chuck at the same time. I… Dean, you scared the hell out of me. You can't just… where have you been?"

"I just killed an old friend."

"Oh." She stepped back, finally noticing how worn-out he was. He hadn't slept, driving straight through. So much for a relaxing drive. Trying to wipe some of the dried blood off of his face, she offered a comforting smile. "Let's go see Sam, and then I think we all need some rest."

Sam was sitting up and talking by the time they made it back to the infirmary. He had been telling Eileen and Cas about what he saw while he was unconscious, revealing that, "I was in Chuck's head. I could see some of his memories, memories of us, of writing about us, figuring us out. He's weak. I think we can beat him."

The room was silent as everyone processed what they meant. Not only did Sam have a psychic link with Chuck, he could tell that he was being affected by the wound too. Grace was the first to burst the bubble. "Sam, if you can see Chuck, see what he's thinking, the different endings he's playing around with or whatever, he can probably see into your head too. He's Chuck, so you probably wouldn't feel it. As much as we've gained having a window into his mind, he has a window into yours. I don't know for sure, but if that gun was meant to balance the energy of the universe, then he's got to be able to see into your head."

"Why don't we all get some rest," Eileen proposed, standing up from where she had taken a spot on the cot next to Sam. "Goodness knows we need it. We meet up in a few hours, take a fresh look at things, and then we can figure out what to do about this window."

Dean stayed to talk to Sam for a little while as the others filed out. As much as he wanted to talk to his brother, he was also avoiding Cas. Grace pulled the angel aside, apologizing on his behalf. "I'm sorry if he takes a little while to warm up to you again. I don't blame you for anything, but he holds onto things that he shouldn't, and you know how he gets when he's mad. He lashes out. He always has. He lashes out at the people he cares about because he doesn't know how to handle it. I'll work on him," she promised. "He'll come around."

"Thank you," Cas nodded, the two of them rounding the corner into the war room. "I'm going back to the library to see what I can find about energy balancing. We might be able to use this window in Sam's mind to spy on Chuck, if he can figure out how to control it. Or at least shield him so Chuck can't see into his mind and use Sam against us. We had this problem with Lucifer once. We're not going to have it again."

Even though she had been awake for nearly two days straight, Grace couldn't sleep. So when Dean finally made it back to their room, she was folding laundry, making piles of towels at the end of their bed. Dean shed his jacket, kicking his shoes off at the door. Neither of them said anything, both waiting for the other to start. "Okay, I'm sorry," Dean finally began as he unbuttoned his shirt. "I should've told you I had a lead. I shouldn't have just disappeared." He stepped into their closet, taking a couple of shirts from her as he went. Continuing to talk as he hung them up, he had a convenient excuse for not looking at her. "I did need some time away from everything here. When I woke up, it was just a lot. You were still asleep and I didn't want to bother you. It hits me sometimes, the kids, and Mom, and Michael, and Chuck, and how everything we've done has been undone. I start to wonder if I'm even real. Usually I look over at you and remember what you told me, that it can't all be Chuck, but I woke up and felt like there was this weight on my chest. I just had to get out of here, you know?"

Now in his pajamas, Dean found her stuffing towels into the linens closet. Grace sighed, trying to fit the last of them on one shelf. "I understand. It's nice to just drive sometimes. But you were in a bar, and you weren't answering any of us, and… I trust you, and I love you, but you're Dean-freaking-Winchester, Chuck's gift to women. You don't know how many times I've wondered why the hell we're together. If we were normal people, you would've been the high school quarterback who married the head cheerleader, and I'd be… married to the president of the AV club. I'm not exactly a supermodel, and now that I know that Chuck's behind so much of this -"

Dean stopped her, reaching out to close the linens closet and spin her around. "Gracie, we were made for each other, Chuck said so. You weren't supposed to be some sort of airbrushed model. You were supposed to be the kind, caring girl who had braces and glasses in middle school, who hated the color of her hair for so long, who was so self-conscious about every scar and every freckle you ever had. But you were also supposed to be the fiercely independent one, the one who would listen and not judge, the one who… before either of us said anything to each other, the summer before your senior year, every time I saw that red hair in the distance, my stomach started to hurt. I'd tiptoe past Sam's room if I heard your voice in there with your little study group. Every time you'd smile at me, I thought I was going to throw up, because I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to ruin someone so perfect. Hell, I'm still afraid that you'll wake up one day and wonder what you're doing with an insensitive, depressed, borderline-alcoholic like me when you could do so much better."

"You didn't ruin anything," she assured him, taking Dean's hand. "I love you, and I'm in awe of how lucky I am that I get to spend my life with you."

"There was this waitress, she grabbed my ass and - she was hot. But nothing like you. You're the kind of beautiful that's still just as perfect after getting covered in werewolf blood or spending three days straight in the library. That golden, glowing kind of person who I know I could never be. Gracie, you're… home. And I'd never, ever risk that."

As he wrapped his arms around her, Grace finally let go of all of the tension she had been carrying in her shoulders for the last day and a half. "Just don't disappear like that again. You could've been dead. I know, you're Dean Winchester, that would never happen. But saying 'I'm going for a drive' and ending up two states away had all of us worried."

"Okay." As they climbed into bed, Dean switched off the light. "Thank you for being… you."

"And thank you for being you. No matter how crazy our lives get, I wouldn't want it any other way." Grace laid down next to him, taking the spot she always took. Dean was home, Sam was doing better, and even though all was not right in the world, it would be. At least for the next few hours.