Well, here ya go! A little bit of a mushy chapter but maybe ya like that! I'd really love it if you guys would review it. Even the story too if you'd be so kind! I love hearing your thoughts in my head. (Not creepily.)
I have a favor to ask also! Which brother do you like Grace with more and why?
The best answer's author will be put into one of the next few chapters! I'll contact you personally when I choose the best response! This doesn't mean I'll make Gracie choose which brother she likes more. They're a packaged deal as promised in the first chapter!
REVIEW PLEASE! My views and visitor hits aren't showing up so that's great. I'd really appreciate some good old human feedback!
Thank you all! Read on!
The next day proceeded to entail the appearances of multiple ghosts with anger issues. They seemed to have thought they we're wrongly killed off thanks to the Winchesters and Bobby Grace was told.
Their enraged vendetta was short-lived. The boys helped Bobby eradicate the evil spirits back to Heaven. Grace sat idly by at first and took in all she could.
They attempted to show her how to make salt rounds and even to their new-found sanctuary against all ghosts within Bobby's basement.
Once they had to do the ritual upstairs, Gracie was asked to help Bobby in any way she could. She even got to take an iron rod to a ghost or two. At least she thought it was iron. There was so much to learn.
All in all, it was a long day. The boys agreed to spend the night in the library. Sam by the windows and Dean on the floor.
Grace was freshly showered and ready for some (hopefully) pleasant dreamless sleep. Dean gave her a shirt to sleep in. Zeppelin of course.
She walks over to Sam who is laying down and staring out the window in thought.
Bending down, she sits down next to his sprawled out body and balances on her knee. She touches Sam softly on the shoulder and he glances up at her.
"Hey, Gracie." His voice beats within her like rolling gravel.
She smiles at the nickname. It's the first time he's called her that. Feels like home. Safety. Can I hide in your voice?
"Are you really okay? You were hit pretty hard today. By multiple entities and objects," she asks, her thumb stroking lazily on his shoulder and thinking about the busy day's events.
"I'm good. Really. I'm fine. We've had worse," Sam answers her as he reaches out and squeezes her knee she's sitting on.
The spark passes through them, eyes locking. Both looks at each other filled with wonder. Where did you come from? Why does this happen to us? I'm starting to get pissed at Castiel for not telling me about my own life here.
Fixed in the trance, Grace grasps onto Sam's hand that's fixed on her knee and laces her fingers through his, holding them in the air. The charge between them holds nothing but power and connection. An infinite calm sifts through their souls in a split second. Like small ocean waves beating on a coast. Soothingly deliberate as it passed between them.
Castiel was wrong. I'm supposed to be here. I can feel it.
Grace is first to break the bond. She looks up and sees Dean chugging down a beer before bed. Classy.
"I wanted to thank you guys for keeping me safe. You much easily could have told me to hit the road."
Dean looks up at Grace from his beer and finishes his swig. He nods to her in response.
"Happy to help out, Grace. Right, Dean?" Sam asks, pointedly staring at him.
Dean steadily continues to nod and raises his beer to them. Swallowing the rest of the bottle's contents, he goes and sets the empty glass container by the sink.
He then walks back to the library and squats down onto his makeshift bed.
Grace gives Sam's hand one last squeeze and let's go. She stands up and bites her lip, looking around.
"Uhm, where…"
Dean tosses her a rolled up blue sleeping bag.
Grace stares down at it. "Th-thanks."
Well, this'll be a first. Now Grace, don't make a fool of yourself. It's just a sleeping bag. Seems easy enough to figure out. Right? Right. Yes. Okay.
She examines the extremely tightly held together sleeping bag. She'd only ever seen them in movies. She had never been camping or without her custom made memory foam support bed. Besides the motel room beds and dirty bathroom floors to sleep on that is.
That's one thing I miss without a second thought.
Grace gets down on her knees and notices the bungee straining against the sleek fabric. Her face turns focused.
You can do this.
Dean notices her hesitation and eyes her wearily. He looks up at Sam but he's already out for the night. Figures that I'm the one to take care of Ms. Rockefeller over here and teach her how to set up a damn sleeping bag.
"Need some help, Twinks?" Dean questions, arching a brow at her with a slight grin.
Grace looks almost startled at his question. "Uhh…no! No. I've got it. It's just a sleeping bag. A very, very tightly wound sleeping bag…" She mumbles off as she pulls tightly on the bungee without a second thought.
The bungee chord unhooks around the sleeping bag in Grace's hands in a spinning circle, detaching itself. The bag puffs up so suddenly that the chord whips up in the spin and whacks Gracie in the mouth.
She lets out a meek high-pitched whimper and drops the sleeping bag.
Dean shoots up and crawls on his knees to her. She holds her hands to her lip.
Dean grabs hold of her face, the tips of his fingers in her nearly white hair.
"Drop your hands, Grace," he commands.
She shakes her head, her face red with embarrassment.
"No." Her voice muffled by her hands.
"Grace. Drop. The hands," he demands her.
Defeated, Grace drops her hands from her mouth. Dean tilts her head up and down, his own face contorted.
Blood lingers on her lip, but the wound healed quickly after the chord's infliction.
"All better?" Grace asks, hopeful.
Dean's eyes dilate at the sight of her. Lips puffed out, red glazing their surface. He licks his own.
"Dean? Is it alright?" she asks again as she clutched onto his green henley. Her own tongue licks at her lip to see for herself.
Dean tilts his head, and glimmers a small look as if in physical pain.
He blinks rapidly, shakes it off and drops his hands.
"Just fine, sweetheart. Although that's the second time I've seen blood on that mouth. I'm just happy it wasn't mine this time."
Grace's gaze shifts to his scabbing ear.
She reaches for his face to heal him but Dean grabs her by the wrists.
"No, no. Not this time," Dean says as the electricity filters through their touch.
I have to stop touching her. I'm gonna lose it.
But Dean couldn't. She felt almost magnetic. He needed her close. To tell him it would all be okay. To make all of his nightmares drift away.
Dean pulled her over to where he laid down before and made her nestle in with him.
She faced him on the pillow, looking at his magnificent green eyes.
Grace tentatively reaches out and lies a hand on his cheek. Her eyes glowed lightly. He let her. Just to continue their electric touch. His ear had healed from her touch.
Her own now paler blue eyes fought off the exhaustion that overtook after the healing.
Still holding his face, she whispers, "Dean, I'm…." But her eyes drift shut completely and her soft snore ensues.
Dean lifts an arm and rests his hand over hers resting on his face. His thumb strokes under her own hand.
"I know," he whispers back to her sleeping form, "You're sorry…but you don't have to be."
His eyes beat into her soft, sleeping face.
This girl has never had a tan in her life. Bet she's never even stayed outside unless to get from point a to point b.
And those eyes. How do you get yourself to look like you're high permanently? Does she even know?
He lets go of her hand and puts a lock of hair behind her ear. He holds up a translucent piece and lets it fall through his fingers.
Dean takes a breath and sighs lightly.
A sudden sound of wings bellows through the library from the kitchen.
Castiel.
How was it? Tell me your thoughts! :) I won't bite you like Gracie would!