Hey avid readers and drifters alike. I wrote my dang hardest here. I was fairly busy this week as it were. So that's not cool. I hate actually doing things. On a schedule. LIKE AN ADULT. Anyway, here is my spanking new chapter. Enjoy and review please! I haven't gotten one this month yet! Be my first! I beg ye. hehe
They were on the road to Pennsylvania.
Grace couldn't help but think back to the grotesque body of Jack Montgomery. It would definitely be filling her nightmares for a while.
Poor Travis. He should have trusted the boys' judgement. He didn't seem like such a bad guy to Grace. She just wished they could have found his body to heal him with. She never wanted to feel so helpless trapped in that closet with Sam as that monster tried to feast on Dean's unconscious form.
Shivering, she lays down in the backseat. She stares upon the seat in front of her, thoughts roaming free.
She could have saved Jack. But at what cost? He was a monster. Constantly hungry for his forbidden meal. There was no other way to stop him. Grace couldn't help but think of how similar she felt about Ryder. There really wasn't another way to stop him unless she killed Uncle. Maybe even Ryder too.
I miss when we were kids. We did nothing but protect each other. He would talk for me. Beat up anyone who gave me a hard time. I wouldn't see a kid that made me upset ever again. He was my constant shield. If anyone picked on him, I'd throw things at them. Not quite so effective.
She glances up at Dean at the wheel. He was immersed in thought too it would seem. He feels guilty for Travis' demise. As he does for everyone she's noticed. He had told her that Castiel sent him to see his father and mother in the '70s. Its really affected Sam and Dean's relationship. Seemed to be on better terms. At least Sam could be near her now. She felt some comfort in that.
They rolled up to the outside of Oktoberfest. Drunks scattered around them in mass quantities.
Dean turns around from the front seat and looks at Grace. She sits up, noticing his turn.
"Twinks? This is a playground for sleezebags, alright? You will stay by either mine or Sam's side the entire time within Pennsylvania lines."
Grace snorts. "It can't be that bad. If I can handle Ryder, I can handle some gropy dudes."
Dean's eyes graze over Grace's body. She was in one of his AC/DC shirts, tied up around her body. It would be a dress otherwise. Her black shorts fit right around her pale legs. Her long nearly white hair is wrapped into a braid resting on her shoulder.
"Not in that, you can't." His eyes lock with hers, green and blue bouncing back and forth. Her fingers wrap nervously around her shorts edges.
"You don't seem like you two are in the right attire either," Grace boldly states.
Dean's eyebrow lifts at her statement. He and Sam were in their FBI suits, ready for questioning.
"Soo, while you two are out doing whatever it is fake FBI agents do...," Grace smirks and has her eyes dance over their outfit mockingly, "I will be around trying to find delicious carny food."
Dean sighs and says, "God I wish you could come with us."
Sam finally looks away from the laptop in his lap and closes it up, putting it safely back in its case. He gives Dean a knowing look. "She'll be fine. Besides, she can't come with us on anything official till we figure something out for her story."
"Yeah," Grace answers lightly, "Figure out my story and we can be the Three Musketeers."
"Okay. Whatever. Let's go."
With that, they bail from the car and walk into the festival.
Grace wanders about the drunkard's dream in complete disbelief that such an event can even occur…from such a needless thing like alcohol.
Her last bout with the drink has steered her clear for some time. As much as she loved being gallantly carried away by a one Dean Winchester, she'd rather remember most of it next time.
Finally, she comes across a lemonade stand. The kind that dumps a ton of sugar and a lot of lemon. This is her alcohol! Diabetes better not hit her any time soon. Gracie snorts to herself. She'd rarely been sick in her life. Probably because she rarely left her Uncle's fortress.
A pretty brunette settles next to Grace as she orders her sugary treat. She's in the bar maid uniform that the local women workers seem to wear here.
Grace couldn't help but feel something about her was different. She looked normal. She ordered her drink with no problem. Grace was leaning against another booth, gnawing at her straw, staring at this peculiar yet totally average woman. The woman looks up after receiving her drink and gives Gracie a wink. Grace shivers in response and the straw falls from her mouth and quickly looks away.
Was that just my gaydar going off? Is that the term for it? Was she into me? Oh god. How flattering. Too bad I don't swing that way. Get it together, Grace.
By the time Gracie glances back up from her panic of being caught staring, the woman had disappeared.
Grace made her way back to a bar that didn't seem so filled with drunks. She spots Dean and Sam sitting at a table and she sighs out a breath of relief. Walking fast, she pulls up a chair at the end of the table.
Sam smiles at her and her stomach flutters. Dean takes a swig of beer.
"Hey, Twinks. Glad to see you made it back in one piece. No tails on you?"
Grace shakes her head vigorously.
"Good, good." He stands with his empty glass of beer. Playfully he pulls at her long braid on his walk to the bar.
She turns her head to Sam and he leans forward with his elbows on the table.
"You don't want another one?" she asks.
"No. We're still technically on the job."
Leering gazes drift upon Grace. Dean is chatting up the bar maid. Two suit-clad men are seating down the aisle. Sam catches their wandering looks.
His face turns serious. "Grace. Come here."
"What?" Grace's eyes widen.
"Come here. Now," Sam commands.
Grace stands and steps next to Sam in confusion.
Sam pulls her by the arm and settles her onto his lap. His arm wraps around her middle as his hand strokes her side. Grace's arm draped around his shoulder and she leans into his ear.
"Uhm. Sam? Why am I on your lap?" She whispers and his grip on her hip tightens as the one of the two suspicious men glance their way. Grace holds back a sound from the feeling of his large hand gripping her tight.
Sam turns his head slightly, eyes never leaving the men. "There were two suited men looking at you. Uncle's maybe?"
Grace's heart beats even faster. Sam's hand grazes across her skin on her side below her shirt. "I've got you. I just want to be sure they're here for you." The spark radiates, warming them both. Somehow, it has a calming effect on Grace. She takes a deep breath, processing possibilities. Her arm reaches out and plays with Sam's lapel, trying to release leftover tension. Were they followed? I should really be more worried that turned on right now. Bad Grace.
Dean, finally done hitting on the bar maid, comes back to the table with one eyebrow raised.
"Uh, Sammy? What the hell?" He gruffly spits out and sets down his full to the brim beer, making it slosh down the sides. Sam motions with his eyes to sit and looks straight back at the men.
Dean complies and squats down into the chair, taking a sip of his beer, glaring at his brother.
"Two men. Might be here for Gracie," Sam plainly states in a clipped tone, "Don't know for sure."
"And that automatically means she has to sit on your lap, huh?" Dean says accusingly, eyes pointed at Sam's wandering hand.
Grace pipes up, "I don't mind."
Dean's eyes widen and his arms fly into the air. "Right! Okay. 'Cuz you trust us. So damn much." Dean leans back in his seat with a huff.
Sam smirks and says, "You're just mad it isn't your lap she's on. And I'm fairly certain you struck out with that waitress." Sam rests a hand on the outside of her thigh, sending shivers through her. She bites her lip and looks up at Dean. His eyes are full of fire across from her. He does want it to be him. His eyes flash to Sam.
"They're bar wenches, Sam," he corrects, taking a large angry swig of his beer.
The two suited men wobbly stand up and throw various bills on their table. They then quickly leave in a drunken state, nearly running into many tables on their way out.
"Good goin', Sammy. Staking out two business douches out for an afternoon chug. Bravo," Dean laughably smiles at them and raises his glad before taking one last slurp.
Sam sighs and his head falls back slightly and then raises again.
"Alright," he pats Grace on the hip to get up and then rises himself, throwing money on the table, "Let's get a move on."
Grace straightens her shirt and shorts after hopping down. They make their way out after Dean rises up with a stretch. Sam leads the way with Dean resting a hand on the small over her back, guiding her to the door possessively.
The next morning~
"Gracie. Time to get up."
She groans and feels fingers brush her hair from her face, not opening her eyes.
"I have orange juice."
Her eyes pop open and she sits up quickly. Blinking rapidly, she notices Sam is seated on the edge of the bed.
Smirking, he says, "It's on the table."
Smiling back, she dashes across the room and downs the fruity beverage with fervor.
"Thank you, Sam. You're a life saver!" She says gleefully.
Glancing in a nearby mirror, she sees her reflection.
Oooh. That's not a pretty sight.
Her hair was a wild mess and in serious need of a brushing. She'd slept in one of Sam's plaid red shirts that hung down far enough where she felt comfortable not to wear shorts or pants to bed.
Staring at her pale legs, she couldn't help but agree that she was crazy pale. The shirt was twisted and hung on one shoulder. Embarrassment wells on her cheeks in pink splotches.
This is not a good look for me.
Shaking her head, she runs to the bathroom leaving Sam confused at her silence and inspection of herself.