Chapter Seven – Meet Grammy

1130 Cobalt Avenue

The '67 Chevy Impala pulled into the wide, curvy driveway of a large blue stucco house. Green and maroon vines were growing along the sides of the house and there were rose bushes lining the driveway and the gray porch.

Dean and Sam closed the car doors as they began to walk to the front door.

The house was nice – clean, white shutters, crystal windows, and a gray porch with a hard wooden floor. The Winchesters stepped onto the wooden panels and approached the white door with a gold door knocker.

Sam knocked on the door three times and took a step back as he stuck his hands into his pockets. He then rolled down the sleeves of his shirt, wanting to look presentable to an elderly woman.

Dean just stood there with his hands in his back pockets as he smacked gum loudly between his teeth.

The door slowly opened and a figure passed through the shadows. The house apparently didn't have much light during that time of day.

Ms. Forrester was a woman they had not expected. Amy hadn't given them many details about her; they had both imagined a frail old woman who ranted about the future.

She was probably in her late fifties and was in excellent shape. She wasn't that small nor did she crouch as she walked. There was no old mothball sweater or an oversized skirt, but the woman wore a fresh pair of jeans and a white T-shirt that had a picture of the American flag; the font on the shirt read: Love It, or Leave It!

"Ah, Sam and Dean, I presume," Ms. Forrester greeted as she stood before the door. She stepped aside and smiled warmly as the guys stepped inside.

O.O.O.O.O.

Sam and Dean sat in a red leather couch of the living room. Each wall in the living room was painted a different shade of blue. There was a white table in the center of the room with a phone that had been splatter-painted.

The small tables in the corners of the room had various objects: crystal balls, incense, candles, different fabrics and coins from different cultures.

Ms. Forrester returned to the room carrying a tray with three glasses.

"Your home is very interesting," Sam noted and smiled sweetly at the old woman.

She smiled back as she placed the tray on the white table and sat down opposite them on a green-black rocking chair.

"My home represents myself," Ms. Forrester explained. She paused for effect and continued, "My home is out of the ordinary – as am I."

Dean nodded and cocked his head in a way to say: "I agree."

She clapped her hands together and Ms. Forrester said, "Well, before we get done to business. Lets get to know each other. You boys can call me Grammy."

"Grammy," Dean repeated.

"I'm not old, son," she laughed. "I'm just used to it. So please, call my Grammy." So, Grammy clapped her hands together and smiled. She had such a sweet face. It was a perfect circle with pure white hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had black chopsticks in her hair which really showed how white her hair was. Grammy had soft brown eyes and a small mouth – but with a large grin.

"I'm sorry Amy couldn't be here," Grammy sighed. "Poor girl."

"She can handle an over-zealous reporter," Sam explained.

"I completely agree, Sam," Grammy nodded. "Now…Amy has informed me that you seem to have an issue. Several, in fact."

"Well…" Dean looked at Sam and then back at Grammy. "Amy's friend – Isabella – was just in a car accident and she…well…sort of jumped out of her body…"

Grammy waved her arms in the air and shook her head. "Ah! I hate long descriptions. Thus, I always hated Jane Eyre and Tess of the D'Urbervilles." She rubbed her hands on her knees for a moment and then held each hand out to Sam and Dean.

Each brother stared at her hand for a moment and she smiled at them as if to say, "It's okay, I don't bite."

Sam and Dean each reached out their own hand and placed it into the hand of the older woman. They felt nothing by the contact, except soft, old skin.

Grammy was having a different reaction.

She closed her eyes and hummed to herself. Dean realized she was humming Zeppelin.

Her eyes opened and Grammy let their hands go slowly. "So, I see…"

"You see…" Dean asked.

"If Amy has not already told you," she murmured. "I am a palm reader. But not like those crazy cats who think they can tell the future just by lifelines. There's more to it then that. But yes, so I understand…this Isabella girl is caught in between planes. Too bad for her. I also understand, Sam, that you've been receiving a few difficult visions?"

Sam nodded. Dean leaned forward and asked, "Do you know what's happening to him?"

"Of course," Grammy laughed. "You know it too. This is part of your progression. Your psychic-growing. We all have difficult times with this sort of thing. My own gift didn't come to me until I was ten. I lost touch with it when I was about fifteen. And in my twenties it suddenly came back. Oh, don't worry Sam, I had my own share of headaches. Nose bleeds too. Not too bad. I even had a miscarriage because of it. But yes, anyway…explain what you've been seeing…what is it that has attached itself to this girl?"

"Umm," Sam gulped as he tried to focus back on the main problem of all of this. "This black figure…I'm not what it is…it hisses…"

"And it knows that you've been taking a few peeks at this," Grammy nodded her head slowly. "Interesting. You boys should know I don't have much experience in the action-packed field of all of this. Demons and monsters and creatures of the night aren't my thing. But there is a problem here…Isabella is an innocent…poor thing…hmm…I agree with Amy…we're all useless – even you, Normal Boy" she glanced at Dean and winked, "but yes, none of us can do anything until we get to the hospital and see the girl's body."

"So, just by holding her hand you can figure out what happened to her?" Dean asked and raised an eyebrow.

"We'll see," Grammy sighed. "But if there's another force working at this, I may be psychically blocked. But we'll see. Sammy boy here seems to have many talents. Amy is very good with her feelings. And I'm quite good with my hands." Grammy smiled and bobbed her head. "So, anyone up for hotdogs before we go to the hospital?"

Dean and Sam looked at each other oddly.

"I think we're fine," Sam offered.

"Actually, I'll take two," Dean grinned.

Grammy nodded and stood up rather quickly. "Good, I'm starved. We'll eat and then we'll leave. Enjoy your waters – special herbal stuff."

O.O.O.O.O.

Isabella stood in the Waiting Room. Hospitals had never been her favorite places. The smell of clean rubber. Doctors and nurses always seemed to talk in that hushed tone loud enough for you to hear them speak but not loud enough to know what they were saying. Sometimes there were people crying. The faces of pitiful people. She hated that. She hated this. Especially since no one noticed she was even there.

Her mother was named Hero. An interesting name. Isabella's favorite name in the whole world. Her grandmother had been a great Shakespeare fan and decided to name her daughter Hero after the character in "Much Ado About Nothing." Isabella smiled at the memory of how much her grandmother and mother used to argue because Hero didn't name Isabella something like "Juliet" or "Ophelia."

Hero and Isabella shared the same face. Angular cheeks, pretty eyes and mouth. Both tall, thin women. Mrs. Hero Ingram sat in the Waiting Room with a tired face. Her blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun and she wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a thin white sweater. She looked as if she had lacked sleep for months.

Greg came to sit next to his wife. Isabella watched from the corner as the tall man with sandy hair sat beside her mother and handed her a cup of coffee.

Mom hates coffee…Isabella thought sadly. She drinks cappuccino.

Greg put his arm around Hero and the couple sat in a depressing silence. It made Isabella want to scream. There was no use screaming. And there was no reason of it. And most importantly there was no point.

She thought about Amy, Sam, and Dean. Isabella wondered if they would be able to help her or not.

Isabella looked back at her mom and Greg. Silence thickening. The walls felt like they were moving closer onto her. Isabella knew that if that were really happening, they would go through her anyway.

She closed her eyes and tried to feel something. Anything. But there was nothing.

Except sadness. Disappointment.

Regret.

I never should have left you Mom…

Hero suddenly started to cry. A normal routine, these days. Greg held her tight against his chest. Her sobs were lost in his gray polo shirt.

Isabella stood in the corner. Watching. Waiting.

Wishing.

But nothing else would happened.

She opened her eyes and mouth and let out a tremendous scream – a scream that, if heard, would cause a child to be deaf in an instant.

But no one heard her.

She continued to stand there. Screaming. Watching. Waiting.

Wishing.

O.O.O.O.O.O.

Dean took it upon himself to cook the hot dogs on a grill in the backyard. There was a good amount of yard for a full family reunion bar-b-que.

The marble patio had different colored stones that caught Sam's attention. He sat in a comfortable black whicker chair that had been splatter painted before. Beside him sat Grammy who was in Indian-style in her own chair.

"'Love the outdoors…" Grammy sniffed the air. She took a good look at her perfect green grass and the trees that made a perfect oval lining at the border of the yard.

Sam nodded. "It's very relaxing."

Grammy closed her eyes. "Mmm…" She turned to Sam and said softly, "My husband and I used to sit here. The dogs would run around. And my dear Susan would be rolling in the grass with them. Good ol' days."

Sam smiled and asked, "Where's your husband now…and Susan…"

The old woman continued to smile as if everything were as right as rain. "Dear Ulysses passed away about ten years ago. Poor old man. Susan is thirty and has a husband and three children in Nevada."

"You must be proud," Sam tried, trying to ignore the fact that Grammy had just mentioned that her husband was dead. But the smile on her face confused Sam on whether or not she reacted emotionally to this.

"Oh yes, my lovely Susan," Grammy said dreamily. "Always a good girl. We haven't spoken in over ten years."

His eyes grew wide and Grammy laughed at Sam. "It's okay, son. Susan never did agree with my 'mental state'…"

"You mean-"

"Oh yes, she knew I was a psychic. A very powerful palm reader. One hand shake with one of her boyfriends and I could tell if they were a bad apple or not." Grammy laughed as if she were reliving some memory. "But Susan never agreed with me. When she could, she left Illinois and eventually cut off all connection with me. But it's alright. I understand her. At least she's happy."

"Are you?" Sam asked thoughtfully.

She merely shrugged. "I'm living. There's air in these lungs. I make a good amount of money too. And my friends are what keep me going. Even the very thought of Susan being a mother gives me enough joy to live five lifetimes. I'm in love with my life."

"Hot dogs almost ready!" Dean called from the grill.

Grammy peered over at Dean and whispered to Sam, "Your brother is a very stubborn person. Arrogant."

"Tell me something I don't know."

She laughed. "His heart is bigger than he shows. Strong-willed. Dedicated. A slacker, of course. But still…good-hearted man…just like you…just like your father…"

Sam turned to Grammy and raised his eyebrows. "You know something about our dad?"

"Only what my feelings tell me…and what my palm reading told me…" she sighed. "You and your brother worry far too much about that man. In my opinion, he'll always do the solo thing. But remember, it takes a longer, firmer grip to really get deep into those lifelines. Your father is a good man. You two have a few things to learn about him though."

"Grammy…" Sam asked softly. He pushed aside all thoughts of his father. "I need to know something."

"Yeah, kid?"

The twenty-two-year-old ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. His almond brown eyes met with the eyes of the old palm reader.

"My visions have…" Sam choked out the words, trying to chew out more. "I won't have a vision in months and then all of a sudden…I don't understand. They work so randomly." Just ask her…Sam shook his head and sighed. He spat it out slowly: "What's happening to me?"

Grammy nodded slowly as she stared sadly at Sam. "I'm going to admit something to you Sammy Boy…" she tilted her head and then said, "Sorry for the 'Sammy'…I understand you don't like that…" She laughed. "But there is something about you kid. I've never picked up a reading like that. Amy is a 'regular' on my Weird Scale. You…you're way up there kid. With Yoda and all them."

Sam was about to ask the question again when Grammy continued: "I'm not sure what's happening. You have a lot of power. I've actually never met anyone with various powers such as you. But there is something…something in the distance…almost…it's like a big label hanging right over you…"

A label?

Sam stared at her questionably and Grammy closed her eyes and sighed. She smiled again.

"Kid, that label is saying 'The Golden Boy is Right Here'…"

O.O.O.O.O.

A/N: I WILL UPDATE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE – AND I PROMISE TO GIVE MORE EXCITING CHAPTERS! NOW WE CAN FINALLY GET INTO THE INVESTIGATION OF WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING WITH ISABELLA AND THIS TOO-CURIOUS REPORTER IS GOING TO MAKE THINGS INTERESTING. HOPE YOU'RE ALL ENJOYING – SORRY IT'S TAKEN ME SO LONG TO UPDATE!

SUPERNATURAL ON TONIGHT!