Don't call me Shurely.

Last she knew she was with Amara and Lucifer, now she was in a shabby, old fashioned Bar in a dazed state of confusion. However, upon turning around she saw the last person she ever wanted to be face to face with again.

"Metatron…" the former angel rolled his eyes, a look of disgust painted his features, "Oh god, not you…haven't I been punished enough?"

The two turned, hearing the faint drumming of fingers on wood to see someone sitting in a booth, "Hello?" Grace watched as Metatron walked towards the figure, who turned slightly and waved at the former scribe.

"Carver Edlund? What the hell is going on here?" Knowing who it was now a smile grew on the blonde's face.

"chuck!" she hurried over as the man slid on a pair of glasses "What the hell is going on here? What is this place?"

"Hello Av—Grace." He said remembering her name preference, Turning back to Metatron, "It's a bar. Actually—"

"It's not just a bar, genius, this is one of the big mans constructs. I'd know his work anywhere. We were besties, you know."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say—"

"This is some kind of punishment, isn't it? For my sins?" Grace grinned, trying to hold back laughter at the angel's sheer stupidity.

"Oh god I hope so." Metatron's annoyance rolled off in waves. The blonde knew who Chuck really was, which just made this whole scenario the icing on a multi-dimensial, several tiered, cake.

"A limbo, where I get to spend eternity in a crappy bar with a hack writer and a blonde, yappy little purse dog." Grace mimicked deans famous 'excuse me' look and raised one eye brow.

"Dude." Chuck narrowed his eyes, mildly hurt by the comment.

"Sorry chuckles, not just any hack writer—a prophet of the lord. Give me a break." Oh he was just digging his grave, and she really wished she had some popcorn right now.

"Tell me at least the beer is real in here…" the angel took one of the draft cups and filled it as Chuck turned around.

"You really think I'm a hack?"

"I have trudged through your complete oeuvre—published and unpublished. Of the Metric ton of books I've read in my life time, "Supernatural" didn't even crack the top ten…thousand. Respectfully." Grace looked down at one of the tables, seeing a bag of popcorn, as Metatron walked back over to chuck.

"Grace, no Beer for you?" Chuck turned, smiling at her.

"No, I'm good with the popcorn and free show." She grinned back. Chuck turned his attention back to Metatron.

"Why is she here, anyways?" Chuck gave a knowing look but dodged the question

"You didn't like any of it? Not even "Home""

"No." the former angel took a seat in the booth.

"Or "All hell breaks loose"?"

"Ugh! Way too much melodrama."

"They told me about that, When Azazel kidnapped Sam to initiate his endgame, him and several other kids just like him, it was like a supernatural "Hunger Games". Only the winner didn't get a fancy house in a nice part of the district."

"Ah, see. Grace knows good literature." He looked proud, even if only for a moment.

"And you put yourself in the story? God!" Grace bit back laughter at the ironic choice of words.

"Okay, that's fair. Mildly constructive. Still, it doesn't justify you…burning one of my books though." He chuckled nervously, Grace remembered that too, Metatron had tossed one of the books into the hearth when he had her and Castiel captive in his study.

"What are you talking about?"

" "Tall tales." You were monologuing to Grace and Castiel, and you threw one into the fire."

"How do you know about that?" Realization dawned on Chucks face, "Oh, I'm sorry. I always forget. People can't see me unless I want them to see me. It's very confusing." He held up a pair of sunglasses, passing them to Metatron.

"Here, visual aid. Put these on. It will help. Go on, just do it. It's a whole thing." Metatron just looked confused as he took the glasses, Grace watched with mild intrigue.

"I'd do as the man says, Metatron." The angel rolled his eyes at her before taking the shades and slipping them on. She could vaguely hear the sound of a light switch being flicked as a bright light filled the shared booth.

"You. God. you've come back." Grace laughed, and Metatron turned to look at her briefly,

"What gave it away genius? The bright light or the "Worlds greatest dad" mug sitting next to him…you didn't think that was some kind of joke, did you?"

"And you knew? But you let me act like a complete jack ass." She smirked,

"Oh, you don't need my help to be a jack ass, Meta-douche. But I did enjoy watching you flounder like a fish out of water."

"Well…that does finally explain why you're here, you are his daughter."

"Yes, And Amara's" a mild look of shock returned to the mans face, "Aww, he didn't know. Guess you two weren't besties like you thought." The angels attention was back on chuck as he got on the floor and knelt.

"I can't believe you've come back. I-I didn't mean what I said about "Supernatural." It's underrated—due for a reboot. And this bar—it's not crappy at all. It's just like the one in "Cheers." Everybody knows my name."

"Wow…did you get some whiplash making that turn?" there was another flick of the switch as Metatron carried on,

"Okay, yeah, please, all the kneeling and stuff, it's always made me deeply, deeply uncomfortable. Just don't use the G-word, okay? Just—just call me chuck." Metatron looked dumbfounded as The writer helped him back to his feet.

"Chuck?"

"Chuck." The former angel removed the sunglasses, discarding them on the table, "I think I need a stiffer drink."

"Sure you don't want anything to drink, Grace?" the blonde had finished her popcorn as they sat around the bar like a group of old friends.

"I'm good, thanks…dad." The word sounded foreign, but a kind smile found it's way to Chucks face.

"It's been a long time since you've called me that."

"Well…it's been a long time since I've actually known who you were." His smile grew.

"Fair point. For what it's worth, I've always been watching over you, and it destroyed me to watch you die, both in reality and in the books. But it had to be done for the plot to progress.

"I understand, it's all a means t and end." She smiled as Chuck turned back to Metatron.

"So, what you been up to?" Metatron nursed his beer, making idle small talk.

"Oh, I've been super busy. Yeah, I traveled."

"Mm-hmm."

"I just started a blog. Mostly just pictures of cats."

"Oh."

"They're so cute. And, uh…oh, I signed up for snapchat. A-And I started a new series of books. Yeah, "revolution." But I don't think it's going anywhere.

"Revolution?"

"Yeah."

"Supernatural. Maybe titles aren't your thing."

"You're not wrong." Metatron rubbed his face with his hands, clearly tired, Grace shrugged, resting her head on the table.

"But why did you put on the chuck suit in the first place? How did that make any sense to you?"

"I like front-row seats. You know, I figured I'd hide out in plain sight. You know, plus, you know, acting is fun." Metatron grabbed his whiskey off the counter and walked back to the booth

"Well…it's an Oscar-worthy performance. But…how did nobody know? I mean, w-what about that amulet thingy? Y-You told me about it, some…silly charm that burned brightly in the presence of you."

"You mean this?" He fished a familiar necklace from his pocket. "Yes!" Grace looked up again.

"Where did you get that? That belongs to Dean."

"And your fav—Castiel. They were around you. How did it never-"

"I turned it off." There was another of the mind-boggling clicks and the necklace began to glow. "See?" Metatron shielded his eyes.

"I should really put this way. You'll never guess where this thing has been this entire time."

"Look, I don't care about that ugly old thing or why you were slumming it with the plebes. Let's brass some tacks already, okay?" Chuck stood, arms crossed, staring directly at the fallen angel before him.

"You see and hear all. You know what an absolute piece of garbage I've been the last couple of years."

"He's not lying…" Chuck turned. "Quiet, Grace. Let the man speak for himself."

"Did you bring me here to destroy me?"

"You know what humanity's greatest creation has been? Music." All right, now neither party knew what the hell he was talking about.

"That and nacho cheese. Even I couldn't have dreamt up that deliciousness. But music…is magic. A lot of remarkable music was created in this space. B.G'S canteen. Now, it's not as well-known as the bitter-end or the gaslight, but some amazing musicians got their start on this stage. I'm hoping that the three of us can tap into some of that old magic and finish what I started a few months ago." Grace and Metatron looked back to the booth.

"Are you kidding me right now…" She was fully pissed off now at his ignorance. "There's about to be a full scale global war, starring your sister, my mother, and you want help with a fucking book!?"

"You wrote your autobiography?" Metatron picked up the manuscript, looking unimpressed.

"Ish." Grace stood, finally fed up.

"Grace?" She turned, eyes glowing gold, "Where is the door?"

"The door? Why?"

"Because I'm leaving."

"Leaving? Where are you going to go?"

"Anywhere that is not here. I'm not a beta reader, Chuck. My brothers need help."

"They're not really your brothers, Avarin." His voice held a certain amount of power now, "Your life down there with them, it wasn't real…well…okay, it was real, but not in the way you think. Sure you were born into that body, and raised with the Winchester's, but your real family is here."

"Yeah, well, my real family is turning a blind eye to countless deaths because he's afraid."

"Well, you're not leaving, so…"

"I see where he got it now, this deranged sense of ownership." Chuck looked confused. "Who?"

"Lucifer. And you know, now that we're on the subject, where the fuck were you when he was holding me prisoner in hell? Where were you?!"

"Avarin, calm down." He tried to place a gentle hand on her shoulder, but she smacked it away, "Oh my—this isn't one of your silly little books, Dad! What's going on right now can't just be erased at the drop of a hat. We're going through literal hell on earth down there, and you just…you don't care!" she continued to look around for the door.

"If there isn't a door for me to leave, I'll make one." And just like that she materialized a door.

"Wow. You've really started getting the hang of your powers again." She ignored him, stepping through and back to where she belonged.

Grace watched as they carried a body out on the gurney, she had seen the fog roll in this morning, if Chuck wasn't going to do anything as god, then it was left to her. She spotted a familiar 1967 Chevy impala pull up to the scene and smiled, walking over.

"Hey, Sam, Dean." The brothers wore looks of relief as their eyes landed on the blonde.

"How'd you get here?"

"Oh you know…Magic doors from magic bars." Dean looked confused, "Magic doors?"

"Magic Bars." The brothers shared a look now.

"Really?" Grace quirked a brow at her brothers' different questions. "Whatever, anyways, looks like Amara's been here." She left out the new information she had, about the vengeful entity being her mother.

"Yeah. When the hell did you get into town?"

"Oh, last night. Um…It's a long story."

"Well, it's a long story you can tell us in the car, which is where you're going to wait because you can't work a case dressed like that." He indicated to the dress she still wore from her adventure into heaven.

"And where are your shoes?" She looked deadpanned.

"I have been held prisoner in hell, been to heaven for some sort of coup d'etat, escaped, found you two, got stuck inside Castiels mind with lucifer, mind you. Been abducted by a crazed woman with a grudge match, and transported to a magical bar, and your first question is… "Where are your shoes?"!" Dean looked flabbergasted, Sam pursed his lips in annoyance at her sudden attitude.

"Regardless of whatever the hell you just tried to explain, you'll wait in the car."

Grace rummaged through one of her emergency bags, thankful she had stuffed a change of clothes into it, tugging them out she stripped off the gaudy white dress Lucifer had forced on her and tugged on a pair of black skinny jeans, a matching black tank top and a Green wind breaker jacket before tugging on her grungy, tannish brown, converse before climbing out of the impala.

"Mind if I give it a shot?" she had heard the last part of the officer's words as she stepped into the bull pen. The sheriff looked a bit confused.

"Sorry, Agent Soto." The sheriff looked unimpressed, "One of yours?"

"Yeah, she's a trainee, but she's skilled." The sheriff moved over to let her sit down.

"Sheriff. Matt and Emmy just called in. they said they saw some fog rolling in by jasper hills."

"Did they say where it was headed?" Deans mind was working as the woman replied.

"west towards town."

"Okay, call them back, tell them to get inside, shut their windows or doors, seal it up, and stay the hell away from that fog. Then get the word out to everybody in town that they need to do the same damn thing."

"Hold on. What are you talking about?" the sheriff refused to budge until Dean answered him.

"My partners and I have this before, okay? Wes, Deputy Harris were infected by something in this fog. Now, I know this sounds crazy—"

"No, it sounds like we should call the CDC."

"There's no time for that."

"Found Deputy Harris." Sam, Dean and the sheriff turned to look at Grace. "She's on Mainstreet, heading right this way."

"All right, we'll handle Harris. Just please, get the word out. Tell everybody they need to stay inside seal up their windows their doors—everything. Do it." Grace stood, following them out of the station.

Deputy Harris stepped out of her squad car, looking lost and absent minded.

"Hey, get them out of here." Sam nodded, heading for the onlookers. "Agent Greer, FBI, I'm gonna need you to get inside immediately. Go." The group took off, heading for the nearest shelter. The door of the squad car slammed, Harris held a gun.

"I tried to kill myself. But she won't let me. She has a message for you, Dean and Grace Winchester."

"Amara? Is she here?"

"No. but her words have been echoing in my head ever since I took a breath of that fog."

"Did she tell you to kill your husband?" Harris leaned against her car, defeated

"And I watched myself do it." Dean looked to his brother and sister as Sam tried to talk her down.

"Okay, listen to me, this is an infection, put the gun down and let us help you."

"It's not an infection. She says it's a mirror. She's showing us all the truth."

"Darkness." Grace looked down the street, keeping any eye out for the fog.

"The light was just a lie." She raised the gun, but was shot before she could pull the trigger. The siblings turned to look at the sheriff, gun still smoking as Harris uttered final words.

"It'll all be over soon. He's not gonna save them. It's all going away…forever. But not you two."

"Dean! We have to get everyone inside!" Dean stood, taking in the mass of fog rolling in.

"Hey, you gotta go, get!" Sam, Dean and Grace hurried around, getting people out of their cars and into safe shelters.

"Hey, sweetheart. Okay, we're gonna get you out of here. We're gonna get you safe, okay" Sam was unbuckling a little girl from her car seat as Grace worked on the next car.

"What's going on?"

"Just get out of here, okay?"

"What's this fog doing?"

"Just get inside now!" Grace looked at the encompassing fog, "Sam, we're running out of time, I'm going to try and hold it back."

"Hold it back?" Grace was rushing two women near the line to safety, "Take Dean and Go! Get them somewhere safe!"

"Grace…"

"That's an order Sam!" he looked taken aback by her sudden command, "GO!" he didn't ask questions as he and Dean herded the remaining bystanders into the station.

Grace struggled to keep the fog at bay, giving at least a few more people a chance to get inside before the fog infected them, had she still been human she would not have survived.

Sprinting into the station she caught a roll of duct tape and started sealing off anything that might let the fog into the building.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't do more." The sheriff looked confused, "Do more? I'm sorry I don't…"

"You don't need to understand, right now we have to keep them safe." Sam looked back from the window as they worked on fixing the old dispatcher radio.

"Dean." He walked towards his brother "You hear that?" it sounded like a full scale riot outside, as two figures stepped out of the fog Grace looked back at the people they'd saved as the glass door was shattered, Dean pushed Sam back as he closed another set of door, locking them with a metal bar.

"Um, Dean…we have a problem…" Grace had recovered the vent but too much of the mist had found its way inside.

"Sam!"

"Folks, we need to stay together, okay?"

"Sam?"

"No, stay back. Don't." Grace looked at her brother, Dean looked at her confused wondering why she wasn't in the same shape as Sam. She knew the reason, but it wasn't the time to tell them, nor was it the place.

"My god, he's infected."

"Everybody, get inside!" Grace watched them to make sure they got in safely, the sheriff shooting her a confused look. Once they were safe it was just the siblings.

"Come on, let's go. Get in here."

"No, I'm not leaving them." A Brick shattered the window, flooding the bull pen with fog and indistinct shouts from the distance. Sam ripped the cork board off the wall to try and board up the window as Dean sealed the bottom of the door, but when Sam fell, Grace took over.

"Sam! Grace, get that window covered, now!" he hurried over, crouching by Sam "Hey, listen to me! Sam!"

"We're not gonna make it." Grace secured the window but smoke still leaked in under the door.

"No, no, no. there's no quitting here."

"We were never going to make it."

"Sam, Listen to me. That's not you talking, it's the fog." Grace knelt down next to him.

"Maybe I can pull it out…"

"You were gonna choose Amara over me. Over everything." Dean looked at Grace, giving a brief nod for her to give it a go.

"Sam, No!"

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, Dean. I can't fight this. You gotta go. Before you…both of you get infected."

"Sam, I won't get infected. And you know damn well we're not just gonna leave you here." Her brother looked confused, and all three failed to notice the fog flowing into the back room through a crack under the door.

"Then go before I hurt you!"

"No, We're not going anywhere!" the pain seemingly became unbearable so she sped up trying to pull it from him.

"This might hurt a bit, Sam, but stay with me." She pushed her hand into his abdomen, fishing for the fog, deep regret filled her person as she did what she needed to.

Dean tilted his head towards the sky, "Stop this! You hear me, you dick?!" the shouting and banging only got louder as the group in the back room became infected, but suddenly it stopped.

"No, No, No, No,, No, No, No! Hey, hey, look at me." Grace kept working, trying to pull the toxin out, "I think I've almost got it, Keep him distracted, Dean.

"Sam, you might fell a bit of tension, but bear with me." Dean looked at grace with surprise as he forced Sam to look at him.

"Look at me. I'm right here. We're right here. Okay, it's okay. It's all right. We're right here." The necklace in Sam's pocket began to glow, and Dean looked at Grace. The elder sibling pulled out the amulet, one he distinctly remembered throwing away years ago.

"Are you doing this?" she pulled her hand out of Sam, shaking her head. "No, but the fog…it's gone. He finally came around." The group from the back came out, infection gone. Onboarding the door the sibling stepped out into the sunlight, no fog insight, Grace glanced around, knowing exactly who had saved them

"It's about damn time." She smiled, leading her brothers down the sidewalk, the little charm still glowing.

"Grace?" her smile was a mix of emotion, both sad and Happy, as she heard the sound of a faint song playing in her mind as the three stopped. A man consoling one of the victims stood, turning to face the three siblings, and a tear rolled down Grace's face.

"We should probably talk." Chuck flashed the boys a sympathetic smile before turning his eyes to his daughter.

"I should have listened to you sooner, Ava. I'm sorry."

Surprise, Ch. 13 is done, that's two chapter in one day! As per usual, please tell me what you all think. I love hearing from my readers, but keep in mind my authors note from the previous two chapters. I would love some constructive criticism.