AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I'm sooooo glad you guys love this story!

I will be updating other stories today too, but I really wanted this one out there to cement some of the relationships and give you some of Grace's past.

WARNINGS: Language, Controversial Topics, Dark Themes, Sex, Violence, Blood

ENJOY!

****

Dean and Grace left the bar without Sam because he was a having a good time chatting with Miranda, and they went back to the motel. Grace went to go and take a shower and when she got out and got dressed in her boxers and t-shirt, she smiled a little and nodded when she saw Dean lying on the couch with a blanket and a pillow from Sam's claimed motel bed. She went over to the couch and looked at him, Dean looking up and curling up a little more so she could sit where his feet were.

"Honestly, I was looking forward to sleeping on the couch." Grace told him, sitting down and pulling her knees to her, resting her chin on them. "Thanks for being chivalrous, though."

Dean shrugged and smiled. "I have my moments."

"I've noticed. So…we need to get something out of the way before we continue, all right?" Grace asked him.

"Okay…" Dean said slowly, sitting up and looking at her. "What is it?"

Grace swallowed and then closed her eyes, spilling her words quickly. "If we have to do anything that has to do with a morgue, you and Sam have to do it."

Dean raised his eyebrows at her and then chuckled a little and she gave him a look. She honestly didn't find it that funny, but for some reason Dean couldn't stop laughing because he was so entertained by what she had said. He really couldn't understand how she could be a hunter, and yet not be able to handle morgues…that was a huge part of what they did—a huge part of getting to figure out what they were actually dealing with.

"I was right: you are quirky." Dean told Grace, shaking his head. "Mind if I ask 'why'?"

Grace shrugged and took a breath. "I just, uh…I can't do the whole dead people on a slab thing. I can do mutilated, dying people, and even maimed beyond recognition people…but not dead people with faces just lying there."

Dean was going to ask her further questions on the subject but Grace's cell phone rang and she didn't recognize the number. She picked it up anyway, even though part of her told her not to. If there was one thing that Grace didn't want to do right then, it was talk about why she couldn't do the whole morgue thing, and so she just picked up the phone and answered it.

"Aunt Carrie?" Grace called out, tossing her book-bag onto the couch. "I'm back from my class! Where are you?"

Grace smiled a little when she saw the platter of chocolate chip cookies on the counter and grabbed one, biting into it. It was still warm, and definitely the gooey consistency that she liked and it made her feel pretty good inside. She'd just finished her college class and she had aced her final and all she wanted was to celebrate with her aunt—her aunt on her mother's side, the one that had taken her in and raised her after everything that had happened with her mother and her father.

"Is Jeremy here by any chance?" Grace asked and then shook her head.

Jeremy was her cousin, and he was always there for and he was probably still out with his friends. So Grace headed upstairs to her aunt's bedroom because her car had been there and she knew that her aunt was there. She opened up the bedroom door and she when she saw her aunt lying there on the floor, her face twisted in pain, Grace almost choked on the bite of cookie in her mouth.

All her happiness was extinguished just like that, and she hurried over to her aunt, knowing by her cold body that she was gone. Then Grace felt the presence of the demon and she found herself being shoved up against the wall, the man tightening his grip on her neck, his eyes black as the night. She couldn't scream, and she didn't understand when an attractive blood man showed up and with ease, moved his hand, and sent the demon back to Hell.

Grace choked and then felt the tears sliding down her cheeks as she glanced at her aunt again. "What are you?"

"Lucifer." He told her softly. "Surely you've heard of me."

"Hello?" Grace answered quickly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Castiel didn't waste a moment. "I'm Castiel, and I'm at the bar I'm assuming you and Dean just left. Where are you?"

"We're at the motel down the street in room 12." Grace explained, jumping a little when Castiel appeared on his cell phone. "Holy shit!"

"You'll get used to it—he also has this thing about ignoring personal space." Dean told her, smiling at Castiel. "So what brings you here, Cas?"

Castiel hung up his phone and looked directly at Grace. "Lucifer wanted you to be his vessel, Grace…did he explain why?"

Grace flipped her phone shut and set it back down on the coffee table next to the couch, looking at Castiel. They made eye contact, her warm eyes greeting his cool, blue ones, and she took a deep breath. There was a lot more to her conversation with Lucifer than she was ready to indulge, but she knew that if an angel was asking for the story—an angel that Lucifer had mentioned to her and Bobby trusted—she'd have to tell him something…

"He said I was strong…he said that I was what he needed…he said that deep down I knew that I was supposed to be his 'pit-stop to Sam'." Grace explained to him, glad it was the truth even though it wasn't everything.

Castiel nodded slowly. "Well I do not believe that he is done with you, Grace. Dean? I need you to keep an eye on her."

"Oh, please." Grace said, rolling her eyes. "I can keep myself safe and I think you both know it. As long as I don't give him permission, he'll keep himself away…or at least he won't do anything too drastic. He may be the devil, but so far even though he's been rejected, he isn't hurting anyone close to us."

"She has a point, Cas." Dean told him and then he took a breath. "Anything else?"

Castiel nodded slowly. "There's a hunt here and it has nothing to do with Zachariah. Zachariah already accomplished his task—Thea, our sister, already found her vessel."

**

"You sure are a natural at this." Miranda told Sam, smiling at him and nodding.

If there was one thing that Sam knew how to do, it was play pool and play it well. He and Dean had hustled a game or two in their day, and honestly it was nice to unwind like this and keep his mind off of things. Sam knew he needed some fun in his life, and though he wasn't looking for just a fun night or a one-night stand, he was definitely in the mood to feel better right then.

"I've just played a lot in my day." Sam said shrugging. "It's nothing you couldn't be great at with practice."

Miranda smiled some more. "All right…care to wager on a game then?"

"Wager, eh? How much are we talking here?" Sam asked her. "I mean are you just hustling me here, Miranda."

"I'm not hustling you, promise." Miranda laughed and looked through her wallet. "A hundred bucks?"

Sam thought it over and then nodded at her. "All right…a hundred bucks."

Miranda smiled at him and then she set the balls up, pulling out a coin and calling tails. Sam nodded and then she flipped the coin, and smiled—she got to break and that was what she was hoping for. She hit the cue-ball into the point of the triangle of balls and smiled when she sunk two solid balls, going after them. Sam was impressed and she knew it, and his gaze was making her a little nervous.

She hadn't come into the bar looking for a man to flirt with—she had simply come into the bar to get her mind off of things and this was a way to do it. Now she was having a lot of fun with a very attractive man, and she wanted more than anything to just give in and let it all happen. Besides, her nervousness had made her handle on her pool stick falter, and she missed the hit she wanted to make, making it Sam's turn to shoot.

He smiled at her and leaned on the table a little, calculating the trajectory of one of the striped balls, sinking it into the hole he wanted it to go in after it bounced off the wall of the table in the desired angle. Miranda nodded and laughed a little, pretty sure right then that she was going to lose, and in fact she almost did. It was only when she leaned over a little and Sam made the mistake of glancing at her and feeling his whole face flush at how attractive she looked that he fumbled.

"I wish I could play this game as well as you do." Miranda told him, both of them making direct eye contact.

Sam nodded at her and offered to show her, Miranda making a witty remark about how this was the moment Sam had been waiting for all night. He just laughed at her and shrugged and she accepted—she wouldn't mind being touched by him actually. In fact when he got up behind her and started showing her how to position the pool cue, he smelled the vanilla in her hair and he couldn't help but be drawn in by it. Sam Winchester hadn't been this close to woman in so long he honestly couldn't remember how this could feel, but he couldn't take advantage of this.

He lived in a world where he was a hunter, and he couldn't even completely trust himself, so he didn't want to drag someone else into his crazy life. Sam had so many of his own issues to straighten out and Miranda did too, but they both liked this closeness. Miranda liked the feelings of Sam's muscles contracting and relaxing against her, and once she thought she had the hang of it, Sam let her go and watched as his technique worked for her—even though in the end it was Sam winning, the eight ball banking off the side and sinking into the pocket corner like it was meant to be put there by Sam.

"Wow," Miranda said, letting out a whistle and grinning from ear to ear, "that was a really fun game and I'm glad I got to share it with you. Thanks, Sam…for letting me unwind a bit."

Sam nodded at her. "Thank you, Miranda."

He turned to leave but her voice caught him and he turned to look at her, smiling as she ran her fingers through her locks nervously. This was obviously something she'd never done before and he admired her forwardness—it reminded him a little of Dean. She had this air about her that spoke more about her than her own actions did, and part of Sam didn't want to leave the bar at all, but he had to.

"I'd like you to have my number." Miranda told him, pulling out her phone. "I'm going to text you, and you can decide whether or not you want to call me or not."

Sam smiled at her and nodded, telling him her number and letting her program it into his phone before he thanked her again and left the bar. He fixed his jacket and felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, pulling it out and smiling at the unknown number. Nervously, Sam opened up the text and he read it over.

Sam,

Thanks for the pool and the understanding ear.

You made my night.

Miranda

Sam nodded and he paused in his tracks, trying to figure out what in the world he was going to do. He liked Miranda, a lot, but he still honestly believed that no matter what he did here, he was going to ruin her life in the long-run. Once upon a time Sam Winchester wanted to have a normal life—have the picket fence kind of life—but he couldn't do that now. Still…there was something about Miranda that just really made him feel like he had to give this a chance or he'd never forgive himself. Taking a deep breath, Sam made his decision.

Miranda,

You made mine too.

Sam

**

Once Castiel had left to look more into what Lucifer was up to, Grace leaned on the couch and turned on the TV, Dean looking her over. Something about her definitely struck him as a strong individual, and if Dean knew anything, it was when someone didn't want to talk. She was freaking about what Lucifer had said to her, and she didn't want to indulge her whole life story to him, even though she was trying to bond with him.

There were so many things that Dean wanted to talk to her about, and when she looked at him and smiled a bit, he found himself just talking. He hadn't meant to verbally vomit all over her, but for some reason her soft look at him made him want to talk to her about everything, and so he was just talking. Grace seemed like she could read him so well, and he needed to get some things off of his chest…he hated to care and share, but right then he just couldn't stop the words flooding out of his mouth.

"How do you do it, Grace?" Dean asked her, continuing even though she opened her mouth to engage in the conversation with him. "I mean all of this shit is happening all around you and yet you still carry on with an optimistic attitude. The devil of all of the angels wants you as a vessel to get to Sam, and I mean you're hanging out with your Dad that you never talk to. You have a dark past, but what? You're just bright and happy? How do you do it, Grace? How do you have so many problems and yet so much faith?"

Grace shook her head and shrugged. "Sometimes I ask myself the same question but I always circle around to the same answer: life is too short to hate yourself and dwell on your regrets. We could drop dead at any moment, and do we really wanna go out having so many negative feelings? What's the point, Dean?"

"So…your faith is better than a bandaid?" Dean asked her, slightly overwhelmed by her answer to his questions.

He knew he had to let it sink in, and yet he wanted to understand it all right then and there and he didn't. Grace felt like she had to actually live life…not just go through the motions like Dean was doing these days. She was actually trying to have a life, whereas Dean was simply doing what he thought he was supposed to be doing. It was refreshing—neither him nor Sam had been optimistic in so long that Dean had almost forgotten what it was like. Famine had been right: Dean was dead inside.

"Look, Dean," Grace told him, moving closer to him on the couch, their faces inches apart as her eyes caught his, "you need to stop being so hard on yourself."

Dean shook his head. "I don't know how to do this anymore without feeling bitter."

"Hey, I get that." Grace said nodding. "I mean I don't understand what it was like to be in Hell and torturing all of those souls, or what its like to have the kind of pressure on my shoulders that you have because of Michael, but I do know what it's like to lose so many people who are close to you…I know what it's like to lose face in yourself."

"So how do you keep going?" Dean asked her, trying to wet his dry mouth.

Dean was pretty certain he was letting Grace see more of his insecurities than he wanted her to see just yet, but he couldn't help it. He hated the feeling inside of him that kept threatening to get bigger and he knew he needed help here no matter how hard it was for him to ask for it. Grace seemed like his only option here, and he knew that she was the only one who had the brighter look on things—everyone around him was hanging out in their own despair for one thing or another.

"I just…even with everything bad that has happened, I don't want to just lay down and die." Grace told him shrugging. "Do you wanna know the real reason I showed up when I did, Dean?"

Dean scooted a little closer to her, knowing he was invading her personal space now. "Yeah…I'd like that, Grace."

"I walked in on my aunt…and she was dead…just lying there on the floor, her face twisted in pain. He hadn't even laid a hand on her…some other demon had." Grace told him, the tears starting to come to her eyes. "After my mother, my aunt was the only woman in my life who raised me—she was almost like my mother. Seeing her like that, dead and scared and everything…it was the second worst thing that had ever happened to me, and Lucifer comforted me."

"Grace, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to start this conversation." Dean said truthfully, reaching up and stroking her hair softly.

The movement surprised both of them and Dean drew his hand back, Grace's cheeks flushing, but neither of them flinched. It was just a shared understanding with their eyes that they weren't that close yet—but that they both cared…that Dean cared enough to not want to see her in pain. Grace bit her lip and then drew a deep breath in through her nose, keeping the tears at bay because she didn't want to cry…she couldn't.

"It's okay…sooner or later you'd find out…it's why I can't do morgues." Grace explained to him. "When she was buried…she had an open-casket funeral…and she looked so peaceful…but that's not how she actually died."

Dean nodded and leaned his face in a little more, glancing at her mouth. "I get it, Grace…thank you."

"You're welcome." Grace managed to breathe.

Neither of them knew what was going to happen, or even if anything was going to happen, but it didn't matter because Sam walked into the room. He took his jacket off and explained that he had a fun game of pool as Grace and Dean pulled back from each other slowly, Grace looking to the TV. She had broken the eye contact first and Dean didn't know what kind of sign that was, but he knew he shouldn't be dwelling too much on it—she was Bobby's daughter, and there obviously hadn't been a moment between them.

"There's a hunt here." Dean told Sam.

Sam looked at him. "Yeah? We should get started on it then."

"I agree." Grace said, smiling at Sam like nothing had happened. "We should sleep first, I think."

"Agreed—I'm tired." Sam said and then chuckled and smiled at Dean. "We're not gonna flip for it?"

Dean shook his head and ignored the want to watch Grace when she went to her bed. "Nah, I'll sleep on the couch. So…no sex?"

"No, no sex, Dean." Sam said, rolling his eyes and rummaging through his duffel for something to sleep in. "Not everything is about sex, Dean."

Dean nodded and resisted the urge to make a joke about it because he was beginning to understand that. Sex hadn't been making him feel better afterwards in the long run anyway, and he was realizing that no matter what he did, he didn't know the answer behind being happy again. Once upon a time Dean and Sam Winchester had been happy…and neither of them knew how to get that feeling back…but they wanted it back.

Note: There will be a flashback to Grace's conversation with Lucifer very soon, and I hope you guys will enjoy it! This story is fun and I hope to get it updated soon, all right? Feedback is always appreciated!