Morning readers! Enjoy the latest! Reviews are appreciated! Sorry if the story is a little slow moving. I wanna get to the juicy scenes just as much as you do! I got a new dog a few days ago named Poe so I may be a little distracted from writing but I really love to write so don't be discouraged!
Dean claims to know of an abandoned barn that could be used to summon his mystery supernatural stalker.
The car ride there is bumpy and hard to get comfortable.
Gracie's laying in the leather backseat, staring up at the ceiling.
Sighing softly, she closes her eyes. Sleep grabs hold within seconds.
She opens her eyes. She's surrounded byt white nothingness. It's pure incandescence nearly blinds her, yet she feels somehow at ease.
Wait…only Dean and Sam make me feel calm in my dreams. Now I've been with them both in reality. They aren't here. They can't be.
A sudden high-pitched screech bellows from above her, making her wince and cover her ears.
"Hello, Grace Gregory."
Grace spins around to see a man has appeared before her. She drops her hands and looks him up and down. He seems just like any other man. Wearing a suit, tie and a long tan trenchcoat. His hair is dark and clipped shorter. His eyes shine the brightest. Sparkling blue.
"Who are you?"
"Ah. Good. You can hear me in this form. I am Castiel. An angel of the Lord," he says, in total deadpan.
"The God Lord?"
"Yes. Do you know of any other?" he questions, head cocking to the side.
Grace stumbles back, nearly tripping on her feet. "Wait. This is a dream. You're a dream. I'll just close my eyes and you'll disappear." Grace's eyelids drop and flash back open. Castiel still looms in front of her.
"We don't have time for these games," Castiel says gruffly.
He steps closer to her and stares down almost menacingly.
"You need to convince Dean Winchester to trust me."
"Dean? You know Dean?"
"I was among those that rescued him from Hell," Castiel says.
Grace shuffles backwards. What?
"Y-you burnt out Pam's eyes?"
Castiel stares off into the white space behind them. His face flickers a slight pained expression and then glances back to her, more serious.
"Yes. An unfortunate incident."
"An unfortunate incident? Are you serious? If I hadn't been there, she would have been without eyes for the rest of her life," Grace glares at him.
Castiel's eyes widen. "You healed her?" He walked into her space and grabs her by the shoulders.
"Y-yes," Grace stammers out.
His eyes narrow to squints and his voice turns grave. "What are you?"
"Just Grace," Grace says, shaking off his hands from her shoulders.
The high-pitched screech returns causing Castiel to flinch and look stormily above them.
"No. You are something more. My inquiries about you have been mislead. You must wake up now."
"Wait! No. What do you know about me?" Grace asks speculatively, voice growing darker.
"Not enough it seems," he claims darkly and grips onto her arms with his sparkling blue eyes glaring down at her, "It is imperative that Dean trusts me. Our lives depend on it. I have been entrusted with this task. Failure will not be tolerated, Grace."
Grace's heart beats faster in her chest. She becomes frantic and pushes back at him. "You need to tell me what you know, Castiel. Why am I being chosen?"
"You need to wake up now," Castiel commands, his voice booms as he raises a quick hand and touches Grace's forehead with two fingers.
Grace gasps awake, finding herself in the backseat of the Impala once again.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where's the fire, twinkle toes?" Dean asks, turned back at her from his seat.
Grace's eyes blur into focus and sees his superficial worried expression.
"Just…a bad dream, Dean," Grace answers, blinking fast and then glares at him, "Twinkle toes?"
Dean turns back and shrugs. "Your name doesn't exactly suit you."
Grace huffs in response. "Tell me about it," she mumbles to herself.
After a few moments, Grace bellows out, "Hey, Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"I just want to say that no matter what happens, I'll take care of you guys. I have the ability to heal both of you if it gets a bit rough. This guy…uh…"thing" may just want to talk," Grace stammers to him.
Dean and Bobby exchange a look. He then turns at Grace.
"Listen, sweetheart, you may be able to heal people for some batshit crazy reason but Bobby and me have been at this a long time. This thing hurt one of us. We gotta hurt right on back. We're not all gonna have a nice chat and ride off into the sunset. Baddies don't work like that. You either kill or be killed," Dean declares with a stern expression.
Grace sighs. He's never going to listen to me. He has too much pride to deviate his plans.
They arrive at the run down barn and quickly commence in trying to summon Dean's hell raiser.
Bobby traces out every sigil he can think of on the walls and doors of the barn. Black markings cover the wooden structure from floor to ceiling. White markings coat the floor, looking like some sort of abstract hopscotch. Gracie can't help but be in awe of the surrounding development.
She steps forward and rests a palm on the letter-covered wooden walls.
"They're beautiful," Grace exclaims, tracing one with her finger.
Bobby comes up behind her and settles, standing next to her.
"That's because they keep the ugly out," he says and winks at her, then walks away to lay the finishing touches on a wall.
Grace smiles to herself. She moves her gaze and rests them upon Dean.
He's leaned against the table, hands pressing against the edge of it. His fingers clenched around them tight.
How do I get him to trust an angel when he doesn't even trust me?
She shuffles over to him and sees his face practically glow with ferocity of his looming battle. He's staring down at an older looking book worn with age and use.
He pushes off the table and walks with purpose to their weapons.
"That's a hell of an art project you got goin' there," Dean says, looking around and setting down the "magic" knife.
"Grabbed some talisman's from every faith around the globe," Bobby answers, walking over to Dean, "How you doin'?"
"Stakes, iron, silver, salt, knife. Can catch and kill anything I've ever heard of," Dean spouts out, pointing with a slow karate chop to each weapon.
"This is still a bad idea."
"Yeah, Bobby, I know. I think I heard you the first ten times. Why don't you go ring the dinner bell?" Dean sternly remarks, nodding to a bowl by Grace.
Bobby sprinkles something into the bowl and speaks a slew of Latin with closed eyes.
Grace, in near panic, steps over to Dean forcibly and grips his sleeved bicep.
Dean glances over and sees her red-rimmed bright blue eyes staring up at him.
"Dean. Please. I don't think force is the right way to go on this," She says, squeezing his arm. Eyes on the main objective here, Grace. Not the muscley arm...
Dean throws down a stake, making her jump and twists towards her.
"You know something I don't?" He questions her, glaring.
Crap.