Chapter 23

Dean

I set the pen down and smiled to myself. Doug walked into my bay and clapped me on the back, chuckling. "Can you believe it, Dean? You're a body shop owner."

"Not yet," I said, rubbing my neck. "All this shit has to clear first."

Doug stacked the pages of the escrow contract and the transfer deed. He glanced up at me and smiled. "I wouldn't worry, son," he said, still smiling. "Everything on my end is done. We're just waiting on the bank at this point. Just gotta jump through the required hoops."

Nodding, I crossed my arms in front of my chest. I couldn't wait to tell Grace, but really, she probably already knew. She had a habit of knowing my stories before I got home. She had mastered telepathically conversing with Serra, a two way street, mind you, but my mind was harder to access, apparently. She could communicate with me when she made physical contact with me, but I couldn't hear her when we were separated. I guess the blood bond was strong with her sister.

Gesturing towards the Nova wagon that now occupied my bay, Doug smiled. "She's a beauty, ain't she? Or at least she will be when you're done with her. California girl."

I glanced at the rusty wagon on the lift only feet from me. Shrugging, I said, "Yeah, I guess. Not really my style."

"The car or the girl?" He waggled his eyebrows in a skuzzy way.

"Both," I said. "I've only got eyes for my one and only, Dougie."

Doug chuckled again, nodding. "A good man." Taking his stack of papers back to his office, he shouted over his shoulder. "Gracie would be proud of you, Winchester."

Watching him walk away, I nodded to myself, "She is." I pulled my phone out of my jeans and dialed Grace. I couldn't wait to tell her. The phone rang a couple of times and drummed the pen on the hood of the wagon while I waited. In the back of my mind, I knew that the werewolf family was attached to this car, but I had no idea how to approach the hunt while still staying legit. Not only did I have a family to protect, but now I had a shop, too.

"Hey, stranger," she greeted, her voice low and sweet.

I couldn't help smiling, "Hi, gorgeous." I glanced back at Doug's office, making sure he was out of earshot. "Did you hear?"

"That you're not into California girls?"

"That we're body shop owners."

She giggled into the speaker. "I did. It's hard to tune you out when you're this happy."

Somewhere in the background, one of my kids cried pathetically. One guess told me that it was Rhett. "What, did you set him down for thirty seconds?"

Grace sighed melodramatically. "Yes. God forbid." She giggled again, "Lib wanted a PBJ and I hate that freaking baby carrier. I refuse to be a kangaroo." Everett continued to wail in the background as Grace spoke. "You are fine," she said, aiming her dialogue at our son. He only cried louder.

"Any news on the wolf?" I asked, turning my attention back towards serious business. "I talked to Sammy earlier. He and Serra had a fight?"

"Yeah," Grace said, obviously getting closer to Everett; he was getting consistently louder. "She wants to hunt, but Sam is worried about her and Levi…he still thinks she's too wild."

"Dude, that's why he married her. He freaking loves that." I shook my head. "Sam is being stupid."

Grace, I knew, was nodding in agreement. "You know that. I know that," she was saying as Everett nuzzled into the same shoulder where she held the phone. "Serra is just put off by it. She spent the afternoon shooting cans off the stumps in the field with her .45s."

I chuckled; picturing Serra take out her frustrations on the innocent beer and soda cans in our field. "Are you okay, still? I'm gonna switch the Nova out for the Chevelle and try to finish her body up tonight." Grace's Chevelle had been in my shop for the last six months, trying to get her back to the condition that she was in before the girls were kidnapped and taken to The Pit. It had crushed me when the tow truck had finally righted Smoke; her roof pillars were collapsed and everything except the passenger door had been crushed. It had taken a lot of work, past my clock out time, to get her even close to factory again.

"We're fine," Grace replied. "Serra said that she has silver bullets, but she doesn't know where they are."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, a lot of good that does."

"I know," she said, "they're rattling around in her subconscious somewhere. I'll find them." She laughed and talked directly to Rhett, now obviously in her arms. "Daddy's gonna finish Momma's car! You can't ride in it, you're too little."

I chuckled to myself and shook my head. "I'll see you tonight, hon."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

…

Turns out, I didn't finish Smoke's body that night. I ended up taking the driver's side door off to pound the steel again, not satisfied with its shape. When I finally re-hung the door on her hinges, the edges were once again straight and crisp. I took the sander to her once more, making sure to get the lumps as smooth as I could, once I filled the divots with Bondo. Standing back to stare at my handy work, I glanced at the clock and swore under my breath. Grace had been alone with the kids since eight that morning. It was creeping up on ten-thirty. Wiping my hands, I grabbed my keys and my phone from my locker, put my .45 in the waistband of my jeans and flipped the lights off, heading to Baby.

Reaching up to pull the roll-top door down and lock it, I glanced around out of habit as I headed towards my car in the darkness. I could feel eyes on me, but I had no fucking idea what was lurking in the night. I pulled my gun, feeling rusty, and listened.

They always say it's like riding a bike; it'll come back to you when you want it to. That phrase is one hundred percent true. I could feel myself fall back into my old habits, flicking the safety off, making sure my gun was loaded. I moved silently, my boots barely made contact with the road. Reaching my Impala, I stood, back to steel and waited for the inevitable. It never came.

I knew it was watching me, though. I could feel its eyes follow my every move. My hands tingled with anticipation and The Mark seemed to catch wind that we were back in fight mode as well. I could feel the heat reach my fingertips as I reached for the door handle.

"Not tonight, huh?" I asked the trees, gently swaying in the breeze. I listened again, but to no avail. If anything was going to attack me, it would have happened already, and I was already in my car. "Next time, then." I slammed the door and started her up, peeling out of the parking lot, leaving glowing red eyes behind me in the black.

…

For four days, I worked mercilessly on Smoke on the Water, wanting to get her put back together for Grace's birthday. Doug understood, allowing me to use the paint stall for her primer coat after I finished sanding, forgetting about the Buick and the Nova wagon I had waiting. Night after night, I worked well past closing hours, knowing that Grace was home and safe with the kids and Sam and Serra checked in on them regularly.

My nephew Levi joined the chaos a few days ago; spending his days with Grace, Liberty, Glory and Everett while Serra went back to work. He was a quiet baby, easy-going and observant, happy to lay with Glory on the floor and play while Rhett was carried around for hours on end. He seemed to take his mood directly from Grace: when she was happy, Everett was all smiles. When Grace was upset or frustrated about something, Everett made sure to let everyone know about it. As time moved on with him, I wondered more and more if he had picked up more of my tendencies than the girls did; The Mark included. I got the feeling that he wasn't just a Momma's Boy; he was actually addicted to Grace.

She hadn't touched The Mark of Cain in months. I knew it was her fear of agelessness that kept her at bay, but more and more I wondered if Rhett was doing the same thing I had been. If he had the genetic clone of The Mark, then it would affect Grace in a lot of the same ways…one of them being still not aging.

I hadn't brought the possibility up with Grace yet, but if she was listening, she already knew.

It was well past closing time and again; I was in the shop, closely examining the final base of clear coat I had thrown on Smoke that morning. Once again, she was stunning. The purple metal flake I had chosen the first time I reconditioned her wasn't in stock anymore, so I went with a deeper shade, no metal flake, but I had included her stock black racing stripes this time. Smoke on the Water, version two, was finally complete.

I stood back to admire my handy work with my hands in my pockets. I tilted my head, smiling lightly. I had made the deadline: Grace's birthday was tomorrow and I had finished.

"Oh, Dean," her voice echoed through the empty bay and made me jump about a mile. "She's beautiful."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Grace," I breathed, my heart in my throat.

She giggled as I doubled over, trying to catch my breath. "Pay better attention," she said, still laughing. "You're a hunter, for God-sakes."

"Not anymore. I've gone soft," I replied, walking towards my wife. She was in simple jeans, sandals, and a white, low-necked tee shirt, which made her even more gorgeous. "What are you doing here?" I asked, hugging her with one arm around her waist and leaning down to kiss her, "Where are the kids?"

"Sam and Serra are with all of them, getting a taste of my average day." She glanced at the watch on her wrist. "Although, everyone is asleep, so really, they're just watching TV and still get no opinion on how my day goes."

Chuckling, I shook my head. "Four is a lot," I said, mostly to myself, glancing at the Chevelle, standing tall in my bay under the fluorescent lights. "Shit, Grace. She's supposed to be a surprise."

"Too late," she said, smiling. "It's kinda hard to keep a surprise from me, don't you think? You've been picturing her painted for the last two days. I had to see her for myself."

I led her to the Chevelle, shining bright under the lights. My Impala was parked next to her, inside the garage, just to avoid going out into the night in order to get her when I drove home. We still hadn't found any silver bullets and the blade I had of pure silver was only four inches long. Really, it wasn't worth the fight. Sam and I had planned to go "antique shopping" this weekend to get a hold of a set of silverware that we could melt down and make new bullets.

Grace reached out to the Chevelle, hesitating before making contact. "The clear coat still wet?"

"Don't touch it," I said, shaking my head. "It's really not worth it. She's cured, but I'd like her to sit a bit first."

She smiled and turned back to her car. "It's a shame the baby seats don't fit," she said, standing back to admire Smoke. "I love the racing stripes."

Nodding, I smiled. "Yeah, the SS always had stripes. I don't know why I didn't paint them the first time."

Taking a step back, she joined me leaning against the Impala. "I miss you," she said quietly. "It feels like you're never home."

"I wanted to get her done before your birthday," I said, reaching for her hand. "I made it."

"By the skin of your teeth," she said, grinning up at me.

"Still counts."

Grace leaned her head on my shoulder, as she did so often, and I took a deep breath, inhaling her sweet scent. "Happy birthday, honey."

Leaning towards me, she kissed me, her hand finding my hair and she combed her fingers through, sending electricity down my spine. Her touch was magnetic; it drew me closer instantly and I turned, leaning around her body, my hands finding the back pockets of her jeans. Automatically, her other hand came up to my shoulder. The muscle beneath her touch tensed, tingles reaching all the way down my back. She gasped, coming up for air, as I attacked her neck, pulling her hair to the side as I explored her skin with my tongue. "You're only wearing one layer," she whispered, giggling. "You're practically naked."

I backed up slightly, glancing down at the faded Guns N' Roses shirt I wore and smiled. We kissed again and I pushed her against the car slightly, lifting her from the ground. She wrapped both arms around my shoulders, pulling herself closer, and I flashed to our first date, out in the parking lot after pie. We were in much the same position now as we had been then, and I wanted nothing more than to do what had crossed my mind almost four years ago. I backed up slightly, never breaking contact from my wife, and opened the back door to my car. She smiled as she heard the telltale creak of the door and she tucked her head down as I pushed us into the back seat.

It was cramped, but I didn't care. She was lifting her arms to strip off her shirt and I was doing the same, dropping my shirt on the floor of the car. Grace worked her belt, struggling to shimmy out of her jeans as I dropped my own, kicking them and my boots off behind me, wedging them between the door and the seat. I pushed into her then, a cry of pleasure escaping her lips without warning. She reciprocated quickly, wrapping her leg around my hip and finding the rhythm with me. We couldn't get enough of each other; we took our time, grinding and moving together for what seemed like hours.

My arms burned with effort, but I hardly felt the pain. All I could feel was Grace. She opened her eyes and smiled, reaching out for my arm, finding The Mark of Cain and without warning, we came together, pulling each other close and grunting with exertion. I glanced up at my wife and for the smallest moment, her eyes glowed blue, just as they had done countless times before.

Spent, I managed to wedge myself into a semi-laying position on the seat with Grace lying across my chest, both of us still completely nude. I wrapped my left arm around her shoulders; helping her stay in position and I propped my bare feet on the windowsill of the back door. I chuckled to myself, considering our position, and whispered, "I'm glad Doug turned the cameras off."

"There are cameras in here?" she whispered back, curling into me. "Are you sure they're off?"

I nodded. "They are. Doug is replacing the monitors before he retires. Wants to make sure I've got the best equipment before I take over."

"That's nice of him," she said quietly, tracing her finger lightly across my chest. "I still can't believe we bought the shop."

A smile spread over my face again, nodding. "I know. Me either."

"We're legit grown-ups now, owning a business."

Glancing down at her, I made a face, "What, because being married, owning a house, and having three kids doesn't make us grown-ups?"

I felt her shrug and giggle, "I guess it does. I keep forgetting we have three kids."

"How can you forget?"

"I don't know," she said, shrugging again. "It doesn't seem real. It's just like I've been babysitting for a really long time. I still feel too young to do all this…too young to have a husband and a house. And a set of twins and a two-and-a-half year old."

It was my turn to shrug. "You look too young to have any of that."

Now, I didn't mean it to be an insult, but Grace seemed to take it that way. I realized as soon as she lifted her shoulder and head from my chest that I had made a mistake, but it was too late to take it back. "I know I look too young to have any of that," she was saying quietly, very obviously shaken. "That's probably why it doesn't feel real. I just keep hitting these milestones, but my body and my face aren't keeping up. Eventually, I'm going to have three kids that look like my siblings."

"Grace, stop," I said, trying to backpedal. "We'll figure that out. Your tattoos have stopped fading. Maybe we can control it."

"You don't know that, Dean," she said, sitting on the edge of the seat. "What happens when the rest of you age and I'm here, still the same, seventy years later? What happens when all of you leave me behind? I don't want to live forever."

The look on Grace's face was heartbreaking. I had nothing to say to her: no words of comfort, because honestly, I didn't know my wife's fate. I had no idea what was coming in our future, but I knew that this would be no easy fix. I chose not to say anything, and instead pull her gently towards me and kiss her. She was hesitant at first, knowing the truth behind my kiss, but I felt her body relax as she gave in. Taking a deep breath, she leaned back onto my chest, this time, keeping her position on top of me. Her hair fell forward as we embraced, covering my face in blonde. She laughed, pulling it back again with one hand and twisting it together in front of her.

"I'm sorry I don't have the answers, gorgeous," I said quietly, stroking her face, "but you have to know that I am not giving up."

Grace nodded slowly, inspecting my face. "I know," she said, touching my cheek. She paused and pursed her lips. "You and Everett have the exact same everything. It's like he's your mini-me."

"That's how I feel about you and Lib," I answered, tilting my head and smiling. "Where does Morning Glory fit in?"

Grace chuckled lightly. "Somewhere in the middle?"

She leaned forward to kiss me again and I pulled her over, scooting as I did so to give her left leg some space in between the seat back and my hip. She rocked back onto me gently and I smiled. "Back again so soon?"

"Mmmm," she muttered, leaning forward again. "I don't hear you complaining."

Closing my eyes, I shook my head. "I ain't stupid."

We made love again in the back seat of my car and we were so wrapped up into each other, we didn't notice the eyes staring in through the window, glowing red in the darkness.