Supernatural 1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Obviously, I do not own Supernatural. Just the OC and the plot for her introduction, I guess. Well, let's jump straight into it, shall we?**

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**I**

Dean Winchester straightened his tie in the rear-view window, cracking his neck. He burped loudly, checking his teeth for any remains of the cheeseburger he had for lunch. Sam cleared his throat noisily.

"Dean, are you listening?" The older Winchester turned to his brother, giving him a glare of annoyance before reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and checking that he had the correct badge. Sam rolled his eyes and continued. "The man's name is Tyler Connors. He is a CEO in some major firm handling investments, and his family founded-"

"Look at the house Sam." Dean interrupted him and pointed his finger past his brother. Sam did, looking through the window at the borderline mansion towering over them. "It's what – twenty bedrooms at the least? They're used to break – ins. They're rich. I don't understand why we're taking this case. The culprit is probably nothing more than a group of vandals or petty criminals." Dean patted his jacket and turned to his brother, his palms on his knees. With a sigh he grabbed the thin file from him and made a show of closing it shut. "Besides, none of the houses we visited have shown signs on the scanners. No sulphur, no nothing. And we visited seven houses, Sam. Seven. All of them as big as this one."

"Look Dean," Sam took the file back from him and stuffed it in the glove department, annoyed that he had to convince his brother to follow a case that in his view was clearly linked to the supernatural. "Let's just visit this one and call it a day, alright. It's the last house on the list."

Dean sighed and nodded. "Fine. But seriously, we should be hunting all those suckers that got out through the gate, man. Not wasting our time chasing antisocial behaviour cases. You owe me for this one." With that he shut the door of the Impala. Sam followed suit, straightening out his own suit jacket and running up to catch up with his brother.

"You know I was wondering," He started as he fell into step with him, "we could go to a bar tonight to gulp down a few drinks."

"No."

Sam frowned. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I said no!" Dean's words spewed out louder than he expected and he wavered in his step but he didn't apologise. "Look, I know what you're trying to do; you're trying to get me to talk about my feelings. Drop it." He ran up the stairs to the front porch, knocking on the door.

Sam swallowed and tensed his jaw, joining his brother's side. "Dean, you're going to be dead within a year. If you're not letting me save you, then at least let me talk-"

"I said drop it!"

Dean's outburst made the maid who opened the door jump and she stared at the pair with wide eyes, half deliberating to shut the door on them. "C-Can I help you?"

Both of the Winchester brothers turned to her, smiles immediately pulling at their cheeks. They greeted her and took out their badges, flashing them to her identically. "FBI."

The maid gave them a nervous smile, nodding and letting them in. Dean and Sam gave each other a short glance, deciding to focus on the case for the moment, their on-going argument suspended for the time being.

The woman closed the door, rubbing her hands together. "We have already talked to the police."

Sam smiled at her politely. "Yes, but we're required to carry out our own investigation. Could we talk to Tyler Connors?"

The maid nodded. "Yes, of course, I'll be right back." She gave them a timid smile before disappearing around the corner. The brothers exchanged a smile before entering the house deeper, coming to a stop in front of the wide stairway that arched in both directions at the floor above, standing in a bright hall.

Sam tilted his head to the side, his eyes scanning the marble statues that were the posts for the staircase. The whole room was decorated with paintings; the carpet weaved with golden thread and looked ancient. Dean whistled, his eyes looking up and focusing on the chandelier on the ceiling above him, before they treaded to the left and he paused, tapping his brother on the shoulder. Sam turned to him and Dean pointed to the ceiling, the brothers frowning at the letters scratched in the white paint.

"'Get out'," Sam read them out, chuckling. "Very original."

Sound of heals clicking against the smooth floor brought their attention back to the staircase. A tall, slender woman descended towards them, her lips pulled into a tight smile. Her hair fell in dark brown curls around her shoulders, her form dressed in a wine coloured blouse and a grey pencil skirt. She muttered to herself and hugged a leather briefcase to her chest.

Dean grinned, gave his brother a nudge and rolled his shoulders, throwing the woman a flirtatious smile. "Hello, I'm Agent Young, this is Agent Angus," he motioned to himself and his brother as the woman came to a stand a few feet away from them, almost as tall as the pair in her bright red heels. "We're with the FBI, here to talk to Tyler Connors."

She extended one of her arms towards them, not shaking their hands for longer than a second, out of nervousness it seemed rather than being rude. "Yes, he'll be down in a moment. I'm Sandra, by the way, his secretary. Is there anything I could help you with? We already went over everything with the detectives."

Sam nodded politely. "Yes, we know, we're just here by a routine follow up. We won't bother you for long, we would just like you to answer a few questions for our own investigation if that's alright. We were told that you were away on a business trip during the time of the break-in?"

"Yes, to Mexico," a voice answered before the secretary could as much as open her mouth. Sandra shifted uncomfortably and moved to the side to reveal a greying man in his seventies, in a dark suit. He approached the Winchesters and smiled up at them, extending his arm. "Tyler Connors, though you probably know that. You're the FBI boys?"

Dean introduced himself and his brother as his hand was enveloped in a firm and warm handshake, both of the older man's hands cupping his. "We're just here to ask a few questions."

"Of course," the man shook Sam's arm next and afterwards straightened his shoulders, adjusting the blue napkin inside his chest pocket. "Anything I can do to help, gentlemen. But may I enquire as to why the FBI are looking into this?"

The older of the pair shifted on his feet. "Well, the FBI found that the break-in cases such as this have happened before, just in different states, so we're checking it out whether it could be done by the same guys. They arrested someone a few years back but it looks like it started up again, so we've been called to help."

He elbowed his brother to the side and cleared his throat, giving him a hard stare. Sam turned to the pair in front of them with an apologetic smile on his face. "I'm sorry, could I use your bathroom? It's been a very long drive."

Tyler Connors nodded with understanding and motioned towards the staircase. "Up the stairs and to the left, there's a guest bathroom at the end of the hall."

Sam nodded and Dean's eyes followed his brother until he vanished from sight. He turned back to the owner of the house and shifted on his feet, folding his hands in front of him. "So, what was the exact extent of the damage, sir?"

On the floor above, Sam smiled at the passing servant and the moment the man turned the corner the fake FBI agent turned to the opposite direction of the bathroom, immediately bending over and squinting at any piece of furniture he passed. Most of the pieces decorating the walls were paintings, real by the looks of it, but there was a fair amount of photographs, most picturing the family and a fair amount of them showing all of the staff that lived on the premises.

Sam approached a dark chest of draws below a painting of Tyler Connors and checked that the hallway was empty before picking up a silver picture frame from the furniture's surface. It pictured a much younger head of the household with a blonde woman by his side, standing in front of the main staircase. Between them stood a child wearing a white dress, the small girl with curly hair clasping her hands in front of her, smiling.

"Agent Angus, was it?"

Sam jumped, knocking a vase from the surface in his startle. He caught the ceramic object inches above the ground and placed it along with the photograph back in its place whirling around to face whoever interrupted him, an excuse already forming in his head.

But when he finally faced the speaker the excuse faded from his mind, his eyebrows rising as he surveyed the young woman resting against the wall with her arms and feet crossed, her lips pulled into a smirk. Her visibly dyed blonde hair brushed her shoulders and she wore baggy faded blue jeans, ripped at knees and tucked into combat boots, and on the top portion of her body she wore a pink t-shirt, a black woollen jumper and a heavily studded leather jacket. Simply, she was a stark contrast to the rest of the house.

"So," she continued, scanning his suit with amusement. "This is the reason why the FBI work in partners, huh."

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably, muttering about getting back to his partner and walked back the way he came, a little embarrassed to have been caught in the act of sneaking around. The girl followed, only smiling and pretending to look another way whenever he turned around to look at her over his shoulder. Sam curled his hands into fists uncomfortably, about to turn the corner when wavered in his step.

On the wall to his right a framed newspaper article caught his eyes. He squinted, focusing on the photograph. The trio he saw in the photograph before was present, only the little girl was a teenager and was almost a hybrid of the child and the woman he caught spying on him. With a flash he turned around but the girl was nowhere to be seen.

Sam frowned and turned back to newspaper article, memorising the headline: 'The Connors celebrate as the family foundation reaches the highest profits to date, and plan to establish an extension'.

The younger Winchester chuckled and licked his lips, turning back to where he had last seen the girl standing. "Alright, Ms Connors," he called to the empty hallway, "You caught me. May I ask you a few questions?"

No answer.

An approaching sound of footsteps made Sam hopefully walk around the corner but instead of the girl he saw a young man in a cooking uniform. He wiped his hands on his apron and smiled politely. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Sam shook his head but thanked the staff and made his way back downstairs to where Dean was winking at the secretary almost after each sentence he directed to Tyler Connors.

He stood by his brother and gave him a shake of his head to show him that he didn't find anything of importance. Well, nothing that hinted the presence of a demon or a ghost. Yet.

Just as he turned back to the man his brother was questioning, the secretary's phone rang and she pulled it out from the front pocket of her skirt, sighing at the caller ID. "Excuse me," she muttered before exciting the room to answer it.

"Like I said," Tyler Connors continued what he was saying before Sam came back, not paying his secretary any mind, "We have no idea who could have done it and it appears like our security system hasn't been broken into. No smashed windows, no forced locks, no broken doors." He took in a deep breath and chuckled. "But it did almost give us a heart attack when we woke up and saw the mess."

Dean nodded and eyed the secretary as she came back into the room with a frown on her face and informed her employer that they had to leave for a meeting with the board. The man informed her to wait in the car and she left with a final glance to the men in suits.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother and smiled at the person of interest. "And apart from scratches, graffiti and overturned and disarrayed objects, was anybody hurt?"

The old man laughed, momentarily looking a decade younger than he was. "Well, our chief housekeeper has a bump on her head from when she fainted once she saw the first message the intruders left." He pointed to the words on the ceiling above them with a smirk. "But other than that, not a single person in this house has been hurt."

Dean nodded. "And how many people live here?"

"Fourteen including me and all of the servants," the man didn't even pause for a second. "My secretary lives on a separate accommodation provided for her by me."

Sam nodded and took out a notebook from his pocket, opening it up and pressing a ball point pen to the page. "And what about your daughter, could we talk to her?"

Tyler Connors violently shook his head, protesting before Sam even finished the sentence. "That's not possible." His eyes were wide and his posture suddenly stiff.

The brothers raised their eyebrows. "Why not?" they asked together, their chins raised and their eyes suspicious.

The old man swallowed thickly and looked up at them with clouded eyes. "She's dead." Sam and Dean exchanged an uncomfortable glance and shifted, clearing their throats. "She has been dead for almost twenty years."

"Oh," Sam gave the man a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry. Could I ask how she died?"

The old man shifted the balance on his feet, rubbing his neck and avoiding their eyes, coughing. "Home invasion." Any comfortable atmosphere that was present before had evaporated, and an uncomfortable silence filled the room. "Well, I really must be going. You boys stay, look around if you want to, and call for the servants if you need any help with anything."

He was already making his way towards the door when the brothers called after him. "Are you sure?"

Tyler Connors turned around to give them one last smile. "Of course, I have nothing to hide." With that he left and through the open doors the Winchesters saw him get into a limo. The maid who let them in closed the doors, and told the pair that she will be in the dining hall if they need her.

Sam and Dean nodded in thanks and watched her leave before shrugging and running up the stairs. They began their search, examining every picture on the wall, every piece of furniture and entering every single room, never in their investigation finding a single obstacle.

Dean was becoming increasingly irritated due to the lack of supernatural substances present. They found no sulphur by any of the windows, no readings on the EMF or the Infrared scanners and no signs at all that they were acustomed to.

He looked at a photograph of a much younger Tyler Connors in front of a vintage sports car and scoffed. "Seriously man, rich people. I just don't get them."

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head at his tone. "Just because people are wealthy, doesn't mean they are going to be assholes, Dean."

His brother gave him a sideways glance, scoffing. "Uh, yeah it does. For guys who are swimming in money, that's a requirement." He rolled his shoulders and sniffed, opening the draw and closing it shut once he found it empty. "I bet he has something grisly underneath that ten thousand dollar suit of his."

The younger Winchester turned to him and laughed in disbelief. "Dude, did you see how nice he was to us? We are basically turning his house upside down without supervision because he allowed us to do so. When was the last time a witness was that cooperative?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "'I have nothing to hide' the guy said. You know what that means, right?" Sam gave him a look that said 'humour me'. A knowing smile pulled at Dean's lips. "It means he has a lot to hide."

Sam shook his head, chuckling and looked up, freezing in his step. "Dude, heads up, this is why I asked if we could speak to Connors daughter. That's the girl I saw," he whispered to Dean, elbowing him to the side. Dean looked up too, just in time to see the young woman that Sam has seen flicker.

Immediately they drew their weapons, pointing them at her. The girl rolled her eyes, moving from the spot where she was resting against a door. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Dean scoffed, barking a laugh. "Yeah, that's what they all say."

The young woman chuckled, taking small and slow steps towards them. "Are you really going to start firing bullets in this house? Because that wouldn't be really professional now would it?."

Sam and Dean's hands lowered just a fraction before the older of the brothers shrugged. "No, but we can do this." He spied an iron ornament from a shelf by their side and pitched it at her chest. The girl disappeared in a puff of black smoke and the ornament loudly hit the wall behind her.

"Hey!" she yelled out, annoyed. "That was a dick move!" But neither of them heard her for when she reappeared she made a point of not making herself visible. She rubbed her chest where the iron object flew past her and frowned. "That actually hurt, you assholes." She stood next to the brothers and glared down at the thing they threw at her, her head tilted to the side in mild confusion. "You know, I figured I couldn't touch pure iron, but never assumed small objects work too."

Dean rolled his shoulders, lowering his gun to his side but not concealing it. "Who was that, again?"

Sam approached the space where the girl stood and turned in circles with his gun still raised to make sure than she hadn't simply moved somewhere close by. "I think that's the ghost of Tyler Connors' daughter. I recognised her from some photographs."

The girl perked up at his words. "Ghost?" She took a few steps away from them, resting with her back to one of the walls and tilting her head to the side suspiciously. "What kind of FBI agents are you?"

"Do you think she's responsible for all the attacks? We didn't find any signs of a ghost being involved." Dean asked as he approached his brother and picked up the iron object, chuckling when he saw that it was a sculpture of a Buddha."No possession cases, no ectoplasm, the works."

Sam shrugged. "If she's a vengeful spirit then that could explain why multiple houses were broken into. But it's unlikely that a cursed object, if that's what keeps her here, would move around in such an organised manner." He looked at the door the girl was leaning on and frowned. "Although in terms of vengeful spirits, lack of violence towards the residents themselves, would make her rather peaceful really. Hmm. Grace."

Dean looked up. "What?" He approached his brother, putting the elephant back on the table. "What is it?"

Sam pointed towards the door. "That's what it says. 'Grace's room'."

Dean tilted his head to the side, squinting at the bold, golden letters. "You think this is the daughter's room?"

Sam smiled. "One way to find out." He wrapped his hand around the handle and forced it downwards, pushing the door open.

The girl appeared again, invisible to the pair and she glared at the back of their heads before following them in, simply walking through the door when it began to close shut.

The sight that met the two hunters wasn't what they expected. The room was dark, the air foul. It seemed like it hasn't been disturbed for years. Dean flicked the light switch, surprised when it actually worked.

The bedroom wasn't anything out of the ordinary underneath its rather morbid first impression. It was big, like any room in the house and looked even more spacious as it wasn't crowded. A single bed, a vanity, a couple of drawers and a wardrobe. Curtains were red velvet, drawn close. Small personal possessions littered most of the horizontal surfaces that wasn't the floor.

"Well isn't this like a scene from a horror film," he mused, tilting his head as his shoes left footsteps on the floor as if he was treading through snow, not dust.

"You're gonna get in trouble if they catch you here," the girl sang, her words falling on empty ears. She stroke a wall with a finger, leaving a thin trail behind. "Not supposed to be in this particular room."

The Winchester brothers explored the room with the help of flashlights, opening every draw and inspecting every little thing. The air in the room was too thick for as single chandelier to light it properly. Dean paused by the bed, noticing clean scrapes near the posts as if the furniture has been moved.

He hummed, giving his brother a knowing look. "Get ready to use your research skills, Sammy. Perhaps this is a case for us after all." When he was met with a questioning and surprised gaze he bent over the bed and with a grunt pushed it over. It noisily scraped across the wood, revealing the message underneath, clean from dust.

The girl gasped and stepped back, bumping into a dresser, photo frames clattering to the ground. Dean's head snapped towards the sound but not seeing anything else than the objects on the floor he turned back to the space that the bed used to cover, crouching to the ground and running his fingers over the thick, scrambled letters carved into the wood.

'YOUR SOUL IS MINE, LITTLE GIRL.'

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**A/N: I am underestimating what I am getting myself into, huh. No idea about the pairing yet, which is why I only put the characters (besides main ones like Sam and Dean) she will interact with in definite. I am setting this somewhere during the third season, though I'm not sure how far yet, I guess I'll decide in the next chapter. Anyways, I hope this didn't suck too much.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The monster mentioned is not my own creation (obviously). I simply took information from multiple sources about the myth and twisted them (and honestly, most likely completely destroyed it but oh well). Anyways, onwards we go.**

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**II**

"What about a Daeva? We've encountered them before, remember?"

The Winchester brothers walked through the door of their small hotel room, closing the door behind them. Dean dropped the bags of food on one of the beds and sat down beside it, relaxing his shoulders and rubbing the back of his neck. Sam made his way immediately to the desk, sitting down on the chair and opening up his laptop where it flickered on to reveal the website he was checking out before they left to buy their dinner.

After discovering the message in the dead daughter's room they have spent the next hour scrutinising every detail of the room but turned up nothing more. Sam even tried to find the ghost again but she wouldn't show. They questioned some of the staff, but most were annoyed to find out that they have entered the girl's room, and shocked at their discovery there, and in the end they got nothing more than disapproving glances and superstitious mutters. In the end they left to try to somewhat organise the clues in a more comfortable environment, a little reluctant on leaving while a ghost was present but the words on the floorboards was enough to convince them that it was unlikely that she was responsible.

Dean sighed heavily and stretched out his arm towards his brother, prompting him to answer his question. Sam thanked him for the bundle of food wrapped in brown paper and set it on the desk beside him. "I've thought about it. But that means it's under somebody's control and I find it unlikely that whoever would be controlling them would use the Daeva to scratch the floorboards. I mean, they kind of specialise in ripping people apart."

Dean shrugged before unwrapping a foot long sandwich and taking a bite. "Yeah, you're right."

He was pretty happy with leaving the subject behind for the time being but Sam spoke up, as he looked over the notes he made on a notebook that lay on the desk. "Look I noticed something. Neither of the houses in this town had this, but in the last few locations along with scratches and upturned furniture, in some of them there was a single, completely blackened room."

Dean chewed noisily. "You think somebody set a fire there?"

"Well that's the thing. Nobody noticed the fire start, there was no sign of any smoke, none of the fire alarms went off and it didn't spread any further than that one room. It's like out of nowhere, the room became covered in ash."

"That's weird."

Sam nodded. "Yes. Yes it is. So anyways, I looked it up along with the idea that our culprit could be a shadow creature. I couldn't find anything in dad's journal and when I called Bobby earlier on, all I could get was a list."

Dean looked up, hopeful. "And?"

Sam sighed, pressing a few keys on his computer before clearing his throat and sitting up, squinting at the untidy web article on the screen. "One name seems promising."

"Well," Dean motioned for him to continue as he swallowed, "spit it out."

"Nalusa Falaya." His tongue rolled awkwardly around the foreign words and he frowned, wondering whether he said it right even if he recalled it in the exact same way that Bobby had relayed it over the phone.

Dean thought for a moment before shaking his head, shrugging. "Doesn't ring a bell."

Sam rolled his eyes. "That's because we haven't encountered one before. It's Choctaw legend. More simply put it's the eater of souls, or the shadow creature. Like the name suggests, it is able to move through shadows though is not necessarily a part of them. It is also believed to be able to possess people if they have dark thoughts in their heads. It usually attacks people like that, finds those that are in emotional turmoil and eats them from the inside overtime."

"Then why would they attack the houses?" Dean asked through a mouthful of food.

His brother opened his mouth, but checked with his notes before he actually spoke. "Well the Nalusa Falaya originally lived in swamps but moved to towns when the number of victims reduced. It would make as much mess as it could to disguise itself as an evil spirit and feed off of any fear that it induced."

Dean tilted his head with a frown. "Not exactly the answer I was looking for. Why those houses in particular?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well then luckily for you I dug deeper and found out that in most of the houses that were vandalised, there was a violent death exactly a decade ago. The usual: suicides, murders, home invasions; and you know what these events leave behind," his voice trailed off and he glanced at his brother, waiting for him to catch on.

Dean grinned, his eyes widening with realisation. "Vengeful spirits. You said this guy eats souls right? So what, he somehow makes the crimes happen and then ten years later comes back to collect the profits."

Sam nodded turning in his chair towards him and reaching for his food, unwrapping it as he spoke. "And guess what, the Nalusa Falaya leave an area of black ash after supposedly eating a soul that was out of its body. Like a signature."

"The rooms in the houses!" Dean exclaimed, pointing a finger at his brother. "That's why it wasn't present in every location. Obviously not every incident would leave a ghost behind."

The younger Winchester nodded and smiled, turning back to the laptop and taking the first bites of the plastic wrapped sandwich. Frowning at the dryness of it he reached for a bottle of water behind the laptop, downing half of it before his throat was clear again. He pushed the sandwich away, not really hungry for it.

Dean raised a questioning eyebrow, suddenly remembering something. "But wait a minute, if it is the creature that is after Grace Connors' spirit, then the house doesn't fall into the pattern. The only thing to happen there was the girl's death and you said it comes back after ten years. You heard the father, she died over a decade ago."

The other man crossed his arms, and slumped against the back of the chair, his eyes on the laptop again, scanning a supposed illustration of the creature they were hunting. "I don't know, maybe it's learning, you know. I mean, it was already pretty smart to begin with by leaving the swamp and disguising itself in the first place. Like you said, there wouldn't have been a ghost in every location. It is researching the deaths it isn't responsible for in hopes that there will be a soul it can eat."

Dean pulled a face. "Greedy bastard."

A silent moment or two passed, both of the brothers eating their food in silence, lost in their own thoughts, whether about the current hunt or the crossroads deal. Usually both at the same time.

Dean finished the last bites of his food and reclined to lie on his elbows, his jaw moving as he chewed and aimed to throw the paper ball to the bin by the desk. The object flew through the air and landed inside the plastic container amongst the other rubbish. After swallowing he grinned and sat up with excitement, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his palms together. "So – how do we kill it?"

Sam opened his mouth, only to come up with a blank. When his brother gave him an annoyed look and his smiled dropped he laughed in embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck. "Haven't gotten to that part yet."

"Great work," Dean congratulated him, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Really. Top of the class."

Sam rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, it's not exactly a popular one, alright. I'll call Bobby again later and see if he has anything to say about it but for now our only weapon is daylight."

* * *

"So, it's the Nalusa Falaya, huh." Sam nodded, even though Bobby couldn't see him. Realising his mistake, he agreed out loud before the older hunter's voice drifted from the phone. "Well, have fun guys, this one's a stubborn piece of mess. It's a solid creature but it can move through shadows so watch your backs."

Sam nodded, noting it down as he pressed the phone to the side of his head with his shoulder, resting against a tree. "Do you know of a way to kill it?"

Bobby scoffed. "By reading a god damn book?" Sam opened his mouth to protest but his friend's voice interrupted him. "Of course I know how to kill it, you idjit. It is weakened by direct, strong light so power your torches to the max if you brought any, and the scent of burning herbs wards them off so I recommend ventilating your hotel room with some incense in case it decides to come after you. To get rid of it permanently you have to cut off its head and burn the body. I'm not going to remind you to be careful since I bet you already figured out that they are crafty little bastards."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "They're already learning. Tyler Connors' daughter is one of the increasing victims where they weren't responsible for the death. It's almost alarming-"

"Did you just say Tyler Connors?" The voice from the other end of the phone interrupted, sounding alarmed.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Why?"

Bobby sounded to be hesitating before he replied. "Nah, it's nothing. Good luck you two, and keep your brother on a leash this time." He hung up before Sam could say another word. He looked at the phone in surprise before shaking his head and pocketing it.

"Hey, you stubborn kid, come out!"

Sam turned around with a raised eyebrow only to see Dean's hands cupped around his mouth as he whisper yelled towards a second storey window.

The brothers have snuck into the Connors' back yard, hiding in the shade of the trees. They were below Grace Connors' room, hoping to lure the spirit out. They weren't sure what kind of ghost she was yet and even though she had appeared to be peaceful it wasn't the first time they've been deceived, but either way they had to find a way to let her move on.

And at the present moment, Dean was yelling a series of insults at the window, becoming more and more agitated when the ghost didn't show. "Come on, we're trying to help you! I am this close," he held up two fingers to show the distance of an inch, "from just finding your bones and burning them!" By the end of the sentence he wasn't whispering anymore but straight out shouting.

"Tell your brother that he's acting like an idiot." Sam jumped at the words and whirled around to see the young woman he saw earlier that day. In the dark she looked less warm, the colours appearing darker and washed out. He stumbled backwards, failing to recover his balance with any sense of dignity. The girl didn't pay him much mind, instead glaring at his brother. "If he continues yelling he will wake up the staff."

Sam turned to his brother and called his name. Dean turned with an annoyed expression but when his eyes saw the ghost beside Sam he looked relieved. "Hah, there you are!" He called and ran towards them, coming to a stop next to the pair. He scanned the woman from top to bottom, warily, but with a smirk on his face. "What, got scared that I would burn your remains."

The girl returned the look. "Way ahead of you, handsome, I was cremated."

Dean's smile dropped and he cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Oh."

A tense silence filled the air, the trio shivering as a violent gust of air chilled them to the bone. The Winchesters stood with their shoulders tense and hands on where they have hidden their weapons. The ghost beside them didn't pay them any more attention than sending them a half-assed glare, as if she was more annoyed than angry. Finally she spoke, her voice curt and quiet, her eyes not on them but on the house and she winced as if in pain. "What do you want?"

"You're Grace Connors, aren't you?" Sam's question diverted the girl's attention and she turned to him with an irritated expression. "Right, sorry," he laughed. "That's obvious. Can I ask you something? Why are you, well, like this?"

Grace frowned, crossing her arms and leaning against the tree. The brothers didn't miss how a few pieces of bark crumbled to the ground, as if a solid body was resting against the trunk. "What do you mean?"

Dean stepped forward, his arms stiff. "What he means, is that every ghost we have encountered was either a death omen, or wanted to tear us to pieces, literally."

The girl shrugged and tapped her foot against a root that stuck out above the muddy ground. She looked down, avoiding eye contact. "I don't have an answer to your question then."

Sam stepped forward too, his expression a little more welcoming that his brother's. "You never wanted revenge? To punish the people who killed you?"

"Well yeah, but not really," she straightened up, blowing a strand of hair out of her vision and smiling at the pair. "I mean, I never had violent urges if that's what you mean. I've just been… I don't know, kind of just existing I guess."

Dean tilted his head to the side confused. "Hasn't a Reaper come for you?"

The girl laughed, a sly smile pulling at her lips. She looked up at him with amusement. "Oh yeah, lots. I shot them all down. Even got my hands on a banishing spell, believe it or not. The internet is such a great thing."

"Why?"

"Because I want to stay," she shot back, annoyed. "I don't want to move on."

Sam tried to keep the smile on his face when he next spoke. "Look, Grace, it's dangerous for you to stay. Ghosts are not supposed to remain here. Soon after death if there is something tying you to the living world, you become what we call a 'vengeful spirit'. You are overcome with anger and you can't control yourself and you hurt the people you love."

She stared at him with such intensity that even though she was shorter than him, their eyes seemed almost level. Then she smirked. "Well I guess I'm an exception to the rule, huh? I haven't hurt anyone."

Dean scoffed, ready to interrupt the overly calm conversation and call her out on her lies but an unexpected noise beat him to it. A loud and low pitched growl rang in their ears and they jumped, the girl immediately moving away from the tree she was resting on.

The two men drew their firearms and pointed them towards the source of the noise, Grace throwing the both of them a flicker of an offended glare. But soon she was focusing back on the darkness surrounding them, her eyes wide as she searched the shadows.

"It's the Nalusa Falaya." Dean was the one to speak up and take two steps towards the shadows. "Come out, you son of a bitch!"

"Hey!" Grace looked alarmed. "Don't call him towards me, you idiot! I don't want to be eaten!"

"It's okay," Sam tried to calm the ghost down, raising his hand to rest it on her out of instinct. He realised his mistake immediately but before he could withdraw his hand it brushed her shoulder. Sam's eyes widened when he realised that he didn't go through her, instead he felt cold skin and the rough fabric of her coat.

Dean's eyes didn't miss what happened either and immediately he pointed the gun at the girl instead of at the growling from under the trees. "What the hell? Now that for sure ain't normal peaceful spirit stuff. Just what kind of ghost are you, kid?"

For a fleeting second as his words flew out of his mouth, he remembered that ghosts could in fact be solid. But they were solid when they were attacking them, because they were powerful. Vengeful spirits and the likes of them were strong. Strong enough to hold a human by the neck, choking them and both Sam and Dean had more than their fair share of those. But Grace Connors had the likeliness of a death echo. They scream and kick and spit, but they flicker and go straight through them. It was unlikely for her to appear so solid, especially when she was oblivious to the contact coming in the first place.

His distraction was the first mistake he made. Out through the shadows leapt a slender black shape, coming straight at him. Just as Sam opened his mouth to warn him, the shape threw himself at Dean with a howl that deafened them, the two figures falling down on the misty grass.

Through the struggle, Sam stepped forward to put himself between the ghost and the creature that was attacking his brother. "Stay behind me," he ordered to her over his shoulder and the girl more than willingly complied.

Dean, not having lost the hold on his gun when he was thrown to the ground, managed to pull the trigger seconds before the monster could have bitten his face off. It recoiled with another screech, reminding him of a mix between a bat and the bark of a dog, and the few seconds was all it took for Dean to roll out of the way of its next attack and get to his feet by his brother's side, the barrel of the gun pointing at the howling shape.

Now that it turned towards them and surveyed its victims, instead of jumping it advanced slowly, baring the jaw wider with every step it took towards them. The trio stepped back until the creature was completely in the light of a dim garden post, their eyes drinking in every detail.

The shape was humanoid enough but distorted, as if stretched and scrambled. It was as dark as a shadow, the light not reflecting from any of its features apart from the bared teeth and the small, yellow eyes that glared at them. Two thin ears rested on the top of the head, alert and a long tail fell in a lump on the ground behind it. The Nalusa Falaya curled its claws into fists, arms reaching to its knees, the shoulders heaving with every breath.

"My god," Grace pulled a face before she could stop herself, taking a few steps back. "It's even uglier than it seemed before!"

"It attacked you?" Sam asked, aiming at the creatures head. It howled again, trampling on the grass.

The ghost nodded but he didn't see the response because the Nalusa Falaya came for him next. Sam reacted quickly and took out the salt shaker from his pocket and threw it at the creature, sending a wave of the white crystals towards it. The object didn't do anything more to the creature than convince Sam that it was solid. Grace screamed and flickered away just as Sam was thrown to the ground, yelling out in pain. The creature slashed at his arm and stepped on the leg with enough force to break it. It paused, as if taking pleasure in Sam's pained yells and licked its lips.

Dean attracted the monster's attention by shooting at it again. The Nalusa Falaya's head snapped towards him and it roared, putting more pressure on Sam's leg and the younger hunter cried out in pain. Dean shot at it again, cursing and his hand lowering when it had no effect. The creature's head turned up to the sky and it howled before snapping its jaws shut and jumping towards him with outstretched claws. Instead of tackling him to the ground, it stopped inches from his face and opened its mouth screaming so loudly Dean winced and was forced to his knees, clasping his ears shut. Despite the advantage, Nalusa Falaya continued its vocal attack, as if it was trying to kill Dean by its roar alone.

"I'm beginning to think you guys are not really FBI agents." The ghost appeared by Sam's side and helped him to his feet. Letting out a heavy grunt she waited for him to be towering over her again before she dug into her jacket, cursing to herself about having forgotten to do so before, and pulled out a small bag. The overwhelming scent of spices burned Sam's nose and he recoiled as if pained, limping as he took a few steps back to escape the smell. Grace puffed out her chest and with a yell of courage ran towards the monster, pitching the small bag at its back.

The creature stopped screeching immediately, his jaws snapping shut. It sniffed the air before growling and leaping over Dean. Dean ducked out of the way just in time and flipped over until her rested on a crouch in front of Grace, slowly rising to his feet.

Nalusa Falaya whimpered in a manner of a hurt dog and turned to face them, growling. It leaned forwards and rested on all fours, scratching at the ground with one of its back legs like a feline ready to attack. It sniffed the air again and released another pained howl before snarling at them.

Dean's mind clicked and he lowered the gun from the monster, pointing it instead at the bag that Grace had thrown. Just as the Nalusa Falaya lunged at them, a shot was fired and the air was filled with the smell that made their eyes water and their stomachs clench. Dean jumped out of the way and grabbed Grace with him, roughly pulling her with his fingers wrapped around her upper arm until they stood next to Sam, hands covering their noses.

The monster didn't chase them, almost reeling back into itself. It screeched, louder than ever before, and with one last bark fled to the shadows, its howls fading into the distance until.

The hunters almost collapsed on the ground, Sam bending over and resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, waving any spices out of the air as he coughed. "What the hell was that?" He directed the question at the girl through gasps of air.

She shrugged, her eyes wary and focused on the trees as if the creature would attack them again. "While it was tearing up the house I tried to be hidden but it noticed me. It chased me until I reached the kitchen and stumbled over one of the old cabinets, knocking over the cook's collection of spices. It got to the doorway before it took one sniff and bolted. Figured it was the spices and that they might come in handy in case it comes back."

Sam nodded. "Nice one."

Dean breathed heavily, not protesting when the girl wrenched her arm out of his grip once she realised he was still holding her. "I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam," he made introductions, simply because he didn't exactly know what else to say. He would have settled for something catchier but nothing came to mind.

The girl rubbed her upper limb where he had gripped her before relaxing, a breath of warm air leaving her mouth. She offered them a genuine smile, suddenly brighter, as if glowing. "Nice to meet you both." Her smile dropped when a couple of windows lit up and she heard the commotion inside the awoken house. Footsteps and voices rang in her ears and she turned to the brothers with worry. "You have to leave, right now."

Dean shook his head, his gun still pointing to the shadows. "We can't. The creature will be back."

She advanced towards them, annoyed. Her voice came out as an angry whisper. "I'll be fine I can just hide in case that monster comes back, but the two of you won't exactly be able to help me through prison bars, will you?"

Sam disregarded her words, agreeing with his brother. "We're not leaving."

They hid further under the trees, hiding when a flashlight was turned towards their direction as a few members of the staff came out in their sleep wear. Grace hesitated, her eyes focused tensely over their shoulders, but relaxed when she realised that the few people that came out to check the yard were going back inside the house. She waited for a few moments before she turned towards the brothers with a frown, not bothering to hide that she was unhappy with their stubbornness. "Fine then, I'll come with you. Let's go to wherever you're staying." She smiled and the gesture dropped soon after and turned on her heels, and began to walk towards the front of the house, still hidden in the shadows.

Sam and Dean chuckled to themselves and smirked, crossing their arms and standing with their feet aligned with their shoulders. They didn't even move to follow, the immediate danger having disappeared. Her confidence was amusing to them and they waited for her to bounce back against the invisible barrier ghosts cannot cross when they are trapped inside a house. But when the girl set a foot on the street and made to cross it, their smiles dropped and they glanced at each other, confused.

"Hey, wait!" They both called after her, chasing to catch up. They caught her in the middle of the street and she turned to them with an irritated look, crossing her arms. "What?"

"How did you do that?" Sam demanded, catching his breath.

She raised an eyebrow and turned to Dean only to see him wear the same shocked expression. "Do what?"

"If you die in the house, usually you're not supposed to be able to leave it. Only powerful spirits are able to do that, and powerful spirits equal avenging spirits."

She tilted her head to the side, surveying both of them with something akin to confusion. Then she scoffed a laugh and smirked, her chin raised. "I didn't die in the house."

Dean laughed, shaking his head. "Uh, no. Your father said you died during the home invasion."

Grace rolled her eyes. "You didn't look much into it did you?" Dean gave her a death stare and she put up her hands in surrender. "Alright, no need to get angry. Yes, I died during the invasion but I didn't die in the actual house like the staff. I died right where you were standing."

Sam looked towards his brother, then back at the ghost. "You were dragged into the street?" A nod. "Why?"

She shrugged, crossing her arms. "Hell do I know, neither do I care." She gave them a smile to accompany her statement, though they hardly bought the indifference. "So, are we going to stand here until you guys get hit by a car or what?"

Dean glared before wrapping his hand around Sam's arm and pulling him away so the two could speak in private. "Great," he rolled his eyes, whispering as her glared at the ghost through the corner of his eyes. "If she can leave her house and she was cremated then that means she is tied to an object. And with our current luck, we will have to burn her entire bedroom."

"No exactly," Sam reasoned, diverting his brother's attention from the girl that was impatiently tapping her foot. "We can talk to her and convince her to move on."

Dean barked a laugh and shifted on his feet, dusting mud from his jacket from his wrestle match with the Nalusa Falaya. "Right, like that's gonna be easy. You heard her; she doesn't want to move on. She sounded pretty set on staying to me."

Sam hushed him threw Grace a smile over his shoulder. "All we can do right now is either let the creature eat her or let her come back to the hotel with us and try to convince her to move on. Which one rests better on your conscious?"

Dean opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out. Instead he sighed and slumped his shoulders, defeated. "Fine," he mumbled out. "But I don't like it."

The brothers turned back around, Sam being the one that spoke, managing to sound somewhat inviting. "You're right, you should come with us. You'll be safer."

Grace grinned and without a further reply she turned on her heels and skipped towards the Impala, almost admiring the vehicle with her eyes. She was about to pull open the front passenger seat when Sam gripped her shoulders – surprising himself as he still expected to go straight through her – and turned her around, pointing towards the back of the car. Grace groaned and grumbled under her breath, shuffling into the car if only to avoid his annoyed glare.

He wasn't sure exactly how old she was when she had died, but at that moment she appeared infuriatingly childish.

Dean chuckled and threw an amused glance towards Sam and then he and his brother followed suit. Once inside the car he revved the engine, smiling as the Impala roared to life. The brothers gave Grace one last glance through the rear view window before Dean drove the car away from the house and towards the horizon.

Grace turned towards the brothers, for a moment expecting a sunrise to be illuminating their forms. But the sky was as dark as the inside of the Impala and the two men were mere silhouettes. She leaned towards them, her hands on her knees, biting her lip as she deliberated whether to speak.

"Thank you," she finally said, wincing when she noticed she broke the comfortable silence. The younger of the two turned towards her. Instantly disliking the look of pity he gave her she smirked and rolled her shoulders. "For saving my life and not just, you know, letting me be eaten and all that."

A smile pulled at the man's lips and he nodded. "You're welcome."

She smiled and Sam straightened in his seat, his eyes scanning the houses that flew past them. Dean's eyes watched Grace through the rear-view window but he didn't say anything, the inside of his cheek in between in teeth. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel and he saw Anna turn to look behind her again with a longing look.

He convinced himself that she was just pretending. That she would snap at any moment and try to kill them, revealing what all those years of being a grounded spirit had done to her. She will snap and kill them and they will find the object which she haunts and burn it even if that means throwing the house upside down. And then he might hit the books –or make Sam do it – and find out just what kind of ghost she is exactly. Dean nodded, happy with his plan, focusing on the road ahead.

Because he didn't dare to think what they were supposed to do if he was wrong.

* * *

**A/N: Not even going to pretend that I can write Sam and Dean in character, underneath the obvious characteristics they have so much depth and complexity it's intimidating (I swear this story is not going to focus so much on them after I'm done fully introducing Grace. I just wanted to present the first impressions before continuing the story through her eyes). Also, I decided to base this between S3E14 and S3E15 of Supernatural, so basically towards the end of the season really (though I will fully take advantage of the time before and during these last episodes of the season to not make her presence strange after Dean is raised from hell).**


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

Grace nervously chewed on her thumbnail, her foot tapping against the wooden leg of the table in the motel's poor excuse for a kitchen. Sam was trying to ignore the constant thumps, his eyes focused on the newspaper in his hands. Dean was to their side at the head of the table, surrounded by various bottles and boxes of spices and squares of leather, making little bags they could throw at the Nalusa Falaya in case they run out of bullets. He gave the girl to his right a small glare before tying a string around the newest 'cooking hex bag' as he called it, and threw it at her chest where it bounced against her and fell to the floor.

She ignored the assault and let her hand drop to rest flat on the table, nodding to herself before pausing and violently shaking her head. "Nah, I don't believe you."

"You are a ghost," Dean retorted, taking in a deep breath to stop himself from sneezing. He dropped what he was doing, ground pepper spilling on the table as he knocked over one of the jars, and covered his nose with the sleeves of his shirt, his eyes watering.

Grace rolled her eyes, entangling her fingers. "Well yeah, but…" Her voice trailed off and she rubbed the back of her neck, not meeting his stare. "This is insane! Demons, werewolves, evil clowns?!" Sam twitched at the last one though Grace didn't spare him a glance. "You can't expect me to believe this."

"Coming from a ghost," Dean leaned forward, as if repeating a sentence he had said a hundred times. He uncovered his nose and sneezed immediately, groaning and wiping his face with a sleeve. "This is so not cool, man. Why does it have to be fancy spices, why can't it be the usual simple shit?"

Sam put down the newspaper with a sigh. After getting back to the hotel room last night, he had left Grace with Dean – who immediately collapsed on the bed, sleeping with one eye open to keep it on the ghost – and has gone to the nearest 24 hour convenience store to buy as many strong spices as he could. When he came back, he found Dean nearly backed into the corner, sleepily rubbing his eyes as he avoided every question directed at him about why they were investigating Grace's family in the first place. Knowing that the ghost had figured out that they weren't FBI agents, Sam took pity on his brother and interrupted, letting Dean pass out for a few hours much to Grace's bemusement who proceeded to follow everything Sam did with her eyes set in a glare, demanding answers.

When the morning came they finally gave in and told her they were hunters. Grace burst out laughing in their faces. Her smile fell when she realised that they weren't kidding and they took her silence as the cue to get on with their work and plan out how they were going to kill the Nalusa Falaya. When the initial shock faded she declared that they were lying, asking for proof, and they recited a small few of the monsters they have killed, waving some of their artillery in her face.

Grace squinted through the window and pouted, annoyed that she was stuck inside the hotel room. Sam and Dean Winchester, as they have introduced themselves, have drawn on salt lines on every exit to prevent any attacks from the outside, successfully also trapping Grace inside. At first while Dean was dozing off she had tried to exit through a wall but found that she couldn't, which was the exact moment that she confronted the older of the brothers.

Sam gave her a sympathetic smile, folding the newspaper and resting his hands on his knees. "Then how would you explain the creature that is trying to kill you?"

The ghost responded with a glare. Picking up her chair she scooted over to Dean and slapping his hands away continued his work on sorting the spices into bags. He didn't thank her, instead hurrying to the bathroom, mumbling about having to wash his face before he could go blind.

Grace followed him with her eyes, an amused smile on her face before turning back to Sam, no signs in her body language that she was mad at him just seconds before. She opened the jars of stronger, bright orange tinted spices that Dean pushed to the furthest end of the table to avoid them, smirking when Sam sniffed and coughed. "So," she drawled, "you guys seem to react badly to this stuff." She motioned to Dean's messy pile of homemade weapons.

Sam, having powered up his computer in the moments Grace was distracted, shrugged. "Usually we deal with milder equipment." He smiled up at Grace who motioned for him to continue with orange fingers. "Things like iron, salt and guns. Oh and some Latin curses."

Grace pulled a face and wiped her hair when it fell into her face, leaving a smear of dust on her forehead. "Sounds fun." For a moment she sounded impressed. "I didn't expect you guys to be able to speak Latin, no offense, but you two don't really look the type."

The younger Winchester smiled and dropped his eyes to the screen. "Well, honestly we don't speak that much of it." He scratched his temple. "A friend of ours does."

The ghost grinned, teeth together. "Another hunter, I bet?" Sam nodded. "Well then, who is he?" She looked down at her task, her eyes squinted in concentration.

Sam hesitated, but then realised that it doesn't matter if he told her. She was a ghost after all, it's not like she would go out and declare it to the world. "Bobby Singer."

Grace choked on empty air, her eyes wide. Her head snapped up to stare at him, her work abandoned and she anything but leapt over the desk in her fright. "What did you say? Bobby Singer?"

Sam frowned, nodding, genuinely surprised that she had recognised the name. Bobby was well known amongst the hunters, nothing but good name about him, but he was also doing very well to keep under the radar of the civilian population. "Yeah, he's a hunter who used to know our dad. How do you know him?"

The ghost bit her lip, an internal battle in her head whether to tell the hunter in front of her or not.

Dean chose that very moment to walk back into the room, wiping his face with a towel. He immediately noticed the tense atmosphere and swung it over his shoulder, his hands on his hips. "Did I interrupt something?"

Grace opened her mouth only to shut it close and slump back in her seat, clumsily working on the spice pouches, shaking her head. "No, it's nothing, don't worry about it." She bowed her hair until her hair created a wall between her and the brothers, clearing her throat. "Ignore what I said."

Dean gave his brother a questioning glare but he shook his head, unable to answer him. Sam surveyed the ghost with a weary glance, noting to himself to find out her connection to their hunter friend. He was positive that the night before Bobby had recognised Connors' name, and if the girl knew him also then there was something he and Dean were in the dark about.

The older Winchester shrugged and shuffled to stand over Grace's shoulder, silently admiring the work. He chuckled. "Next time we should have you make the hex bags."

Grace looked up at him with surprise. "Hex bag?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, you know, like witches do. Well, those bitches use them for murders but we can use them for protection against demons."

The ghost shook her hands in front of her face, shutting her eyes in confusion. "Wait, witches are real too?"

* * *

Grace sat with her legs crossed, in a park at the end of the street on which her house resided. She shivered, the night's air cold once the sun had finally set over the horizon and the stars have appeared. She continuously ripped blades of grass from the ground beneath her and threw it over her shoulder. The ghost finally after hours of silence released a heavy sigh and turned to glare behind her, where the hunter brothers were sitting on a bench, discussing something in hushed voices.

"When this is over," she called to them, successfully catching their attention and they stopped talking, slowly turning to her with surprise, as if they have forgotten she was there, "remind me to kill whichever one of you convinced me to be the bait."

Dean chuckled, shifting so he was fully facing her over the field. "If you do that, you will definitely turn into a vengeful spirit. You don't want that, do you?"

"Ha, ha, ha" Grace sneered, turning back around in a huff, but not before sticking her tongue out at him. The brothers laughed, but a serious undertone lined the action, their words more serious than the casual way they have said them. Grace cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders, suddenly painfully aware that they still didn't fully trust her. She couldn't blame them either because if what they said earlier was true and that between all those monsters and demons every ghost that they encountered was evil, then their distrust was only natural.

They didn't hide the fact that she was practically a stranger, but for some reason they still made a point of being somewhat nice to her. She honestly tried to believe that it was simply due to them being a pair of friendly guys but that explanation faded soon enough. She scoffed, their game plan not fooling her in the least. She knew that no matter how much she insisted to stay, they would be just as stubborn to convince her to move on.

They were wasting their time. Grace wasn't leaving this world. She promised to herself she wouldn't from the moment she woke up on that street and saw her mother wailing and holding her dead body in her arms, her pearls stained with her daughter's blood.

Even the wealthy mourned the same as everybody else.

The Winchesters said that every ghost they have encountered was a vengeful spirit. Grace didn't know whether they were lying or not for she hasn't encountered any ghost other than herself, but she felt like they had no reason to lie. Even the Reaper, before she banished him away and he hadn't returned, said that she would grow to be violent if she stayed.

Grace shook her head. No, no matter what, she refused to leave and nobody would convince her otherwise.

"Hey, Casper," Dean's voice reached her and Grace slowly looked up, her teeth gritting. Ever since they have gotten to the park and Dean saw how pale and almost transparent she seemed in the moonlight, he dubbed her 'Casper' and the nickname was setting her teeth on edge. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Oh, now you want to know more about me," the girl rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and digging her heels into the ground.

Dean chose to ignore her tone. "What was it like to die?"

When she registered his serious tone she turned to him, curious. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

His response was far too fast and he shook his head far too harshly for Grace to shake it off and believe him. She squinted at him, biting the inside of her cheek and deliberated whether to tell him. Then she turned back around and shrugged. "I don't really remember it that well. I know I was in pain, the worst pain I have ever felt, but after that one last knife twist in my shoulder I don't remember anything else. Everything went dark and I woke up in the street a few days later."

Dean hummed, but didn't say anything to respond to her words. Grace bit her lip, wondering whether he caught the half-lie and will call her out for it but he didn't. A silence fell upon the trio until Grace felt the brothers resume their conversation and she shifted uncomfortably, a little annoyed. She understood it must have been a private conversation, but it didn't stop her from feeling a little excluded.

She sighed and rested her elbows on her knees, covering her face with her hands. Why did this have to happen? She was fine with walking around town as a mirage, passing through people like nothing more than a brush of wind. She was perfectly content with spending hours upon hours in the library, reading books she never had time to read when she was still alive, and visit places in the town that she usually wouldn't have glanced at twice, and memorise every flower that grew in the garden. But recently, especially since the attacks she found the peaceful existence broken.

She almost… missed it. Missed the days she could sit on her father's bed as he climbed under the covers and lying down on the pillows uttered a prayer, letting his hand rest on an empty space beside him. Such a sad look would cross his eyes and every time Grace thought he was about to cry, but he never did, instead he would let a sad smile pull at his lips until his breathing evened out.

Of course as peaceful as those moments were, they were also painful. Every time Tyler Connors sighed a little too heavily his daughter wanted nothing but to touch his hand and show her that she was there. And in the end she had the ability to. After years of being a ghost one learns simple, and in some cases not so simple, tricks and if she wanted if she really, really wanted she could have.

But she would shake her head and make herself disappear back to her room where she would lay down on her own dusty bed. Her father was old, and despite still visibly being in pain he was the closest to being happier than he has been for a long time and she didn't want to rob him of the few years he had left to live.

Grace blinked, as if waking up from a dream and sniffed, wiping the tears that she didn't know were falling with the back of her hand. She looked down at her shadow and cocked her head to the side chuckling when it did the same. She made sure she didn't look like she had been crying and turned to the hunters with a small smile. "So what is that creature called, again?"

The Winchester brothers didn't answer because a low pitched growl sounded before they could open their mouths. Grace's eyes widened and she turned to see the black shape of the Nalusa Falaya no more than a couple of feet away. She released a less than dignified scream and rolled out of the way just as it clamped its jaw shut in the space where her head was resting against her palms.

Grace landed on her feet and threw a spice bag, making sure to loosen the knot beforehand so the pouch would come undone and smack a spray of spices into the creature's face.

The Nalusa Falaya whimpered and stumbled backwards until its back rammed into the metal pole of a tall swing and recovering its balance the creature hunched its shoulders and screeched at the trio.

Sam and Dean were by the ghost's side in an instant, their weapons drawn. The bags have worked just as expected. They needed a big enough amount of spice to slow the creature down, but not enough to completely ward it off. They couldn't risk for him to abandon Grace and move onto another house where they would have to begin their hunt from square one.

Dean pulled the trigger and the bullet took a corner of the creature's ear off. He smirked as the Nalusa Falaya roared and charged at him, and then he aimed the gun at one of the pouches they have placed in the ground. Another shot rang and the creature convulsed, screaming as it was covered in a brick coloured cloud.

The chase act continued for a few intense minutes, the creature slowly growing more and more resistant to the small doses and learning to dodge out of the way of the bullets, before Grace dug into her jacket and realised that she held no more of her weapons. A small moment of hesitation was all it took for the Nalusa Falaya to pounce on her and wrap its claws around her throat before she could even think of running.

Grace screamed, not sure whether she was yelling out for Sam or Dean, or a garbled mixture of both of their names. Sam took a shot, successfully hitting the creature in the head but it barely flinched, not letting go of its prey this time. Dean cursed and reaching into the back of his jeans pulled out a long blade, the brothers racing towards the ghost.

The girl continued screamed, louder and louder until the wind violently rubbed their shoulders and the swings began spinning, her hair wrapping around her face. She felt like her whole being was on fire as the Nalusa Falaya's jaw inched closer to her face, widening, until it was almost big enough to swallow half of her in one bite and she shut her eyes, praying.

And just as the fire got too much to handle, a slice of the blade could be heard in the air and suddenly the fire was gone and Grace was aware how cold the night air was. She gasped, opening her eyes to see Dean's murderous expression where the creature's head was supposed to be, cut off at the shoulders. Her strength hitting her like a wave she kicked at the Nalusa Falaya, yelling at it to let go of her.

Unfortunately the creature's hold remained and Sam had to wrench Grace out of the cage. Once he freed her he pushed her out of the way and Grace fell to the ground, groaning in pain as she flickered and then disappeared. The Winchesters didn't notice, instead focusing on wrestling the Nalusa Falaya's kicking body into the assigned hole and as it clawed and convulsed and its head continued screeching so loudly they had to fight the urge to cover their ears. They emptied their pockets and threw the rest of the spice bags into the grave, sprinkled salt over the body for good measure and emptied half a dozen of bullets into the creature's chest and limbs to make sure it wasn't escaping through any of the shadows before finally throwing a lighter into the hole in the ground, their faces illuminated in the warm colours of the sunset as the creature below them screeched and roared in pain, though not as loudly as before.

When it finally stilled and the monster quieted, the fire went out in a snap of the fingers. For a moment they panicked, half expecting the creature to move to attack them again but it remained a black, scorched mass, smoke rising from the ashes. Only then did they allow themselves to relax their shoulders and drop their weapons, catching their breaths. Dean rubbed his ears that were still ringing from Nalusa Falaya's screeching and examined a deep gash on his brother's shoulder where the creature got too close for comfort during the fight. Sam waved him away, telling him that the jacket absorbed most of the damage and the cut was so small it barely bled.

They picked up a pair of shovels and didn't waste any time in burying the monster underground.

"No more sucking souls for you," Dean mocked, shovelling dirt into the grave with the help of his foot, his breath coming out in heavy puffs. "Killings ghosts is our job."

"Speaking of which," Sam muttered, stabbing his shovel into the ground where it remained upright and turning around, his eyes widening when the girl ghost was nowhere to be seen. "Grace?"

Dean looked at his brother, registering the panic in his eyes. "Where the hell did she go? Do you think we were too late?"

Sam violently shook his head, abandoning the grave and turning in circles, squinting into the distance. "No, she was very alive when we killed the creature."

"Well, as alive as ghosts are," Dean said and rested both of his arms on the end of his shovel, chuckling at his own joke. Sam gave him a small glare and he rolled his eyes. "Relax, Sammy, I'm sure she's fine." He resumed his work in shovelling dirt over the body. Spices reached his nose again but this time the smell was mixed with that of a warm campfire and was somewhat soft, pleasant. "She probably did that whole ghost-flicker thing. She will reappear any second."

Sam reluctantly agreed, joining his brother's side and wrapping his hand around the shovel. "I hope you're right."

Dean flashed him a cocky grin. "Always am. Now hurry up and help me, I ain't doing all this on my own."

* * *

**A/N: This was a rather short one, I'm sorry.**


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

Sam and Dean stalked back to where they parked their car, shovels slung over their shoulders.

"This was easy," Dean remarked, capturing his brother's attention who was still looking around in his search for Grace. "Almost too easy."

Sam shrugged. "At least the Nalusa Falaya is not going to eat any more souls. It is a little worrying though."

Dean threw him a glance. "What is?"

"Well, it was the cause of a lot of violent crimes, Dean. Who knows how many vengeful spirits have been left behind as a consequence of that?"

"Yeah, I'm crying inside," Dean rolled his eyes although not entirely ill-naturedly. "All that matters is that it's dead and hopefully we never have to deal with one again." He sneezed and stopped, sniffing the air before his nose brought him to his coat and he pulled a face. "I smell like a burned curry. Next time find something more bland."

Sam chuckled, breathing in a sigh of relief when they finally reached the Impala. They threw their weapons and tools into the trunk before piling into the car.

Dean patted down his clothes, coughing again when a cloud of remaining spice hit him full force, and put the keys into the ignition, about to turn on the engine when he paused, his eyes flickering to the rear view window. He turned so fast he made Sam jump as he was shutting the door to his side of the car.

Grace was sprawled along the back seat, her knees bent and both of her arms thrown over her face as she lay on her back, her chest rising and falling evenly. They couldn't see her face but if they didn't know she was a ghost they wouldn't have hesitated even for a moment to think that she was nothing more than asleep.

Dean hung his head before shaking it. He collapsed back into his seat, gritting his jaw and fishing one of the phones out from the glove compartment. "That's it, I'm calling Bobby."

Sam looked at Grace over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Why?"

His brother gave him a displeased glare as he held the phone to his ear. He pointed to the girl in the back with a shove of a finger. "Ghosts. Don't. Sleep."

Sam didn't even try to argue and instead rested his head against the window, closing his eyes.

Dean tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, cheering silently when a sleepy greeting answered from the other end of the line. "Okay, Bobby, you better tell us what the hell is going on."

"Good morning to you too," was the older hunter's gruff reply.

Dean growled, resisting the urge to punch the door to his side. "I'm serious, man. We encountered a spirit that is acting way too strange and I want to know why the hell it isn't trying to kill us-" He was cut off by Sam taking the phone from his grasp and pressing it to his own ear. "Hey, what the hell, man, give it back!"

He struggled, trying to take his phone back until his brother snapped at him to be quiet and Dean slumped back in his seat with an angry pout.

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head, a small smile grazing his lips. "Bobby, are you listening?"

The older man groaned and Sam could hear him sit up in his bed. "What was that about a spirit not trying to eat you boys? You're supposed to be hunting that Nalusa Falaya guy."

"It's been taken care of. Look, Bobby, we met the ghost of Grace Connors and she refuses to move on. She is not a vengeful spirit and has actually helped us to kill the creature. Now before you tell us to just burn whatever the object keeping her here is I want you to hear me out. I know that somehow the both of you know each other, so before you can weasel your way out of this we're bringing her to the Salvage Yard and you two better give us some answers."

Sam hung up the phone before their friend could say another word.

Dean shifted in his seat and rolled his shoulders, taking the phone from him. "What did you take the phone away from me for? I would have said all that."

Sam grinned slyly. "Yeah I know, but not after you've yelled at the phone for five minutes."

His brother rubbed the back of his neck, his shoulders aching. "Why are we bringing her to Bobby's? We can't trust her. And isn't South Dakota a little out of our way?"

"We need to know, Dean."

"Oh come on, man," Dean rolled his eyes. "You can't be serious. Give me one reason why I should care."

"Lenore," Sam said with renewed confidence, raising his chin in satisfaction when a flicker of recognition registered in his brother's eyes. "You thought vampires were all bad guys before her and don't you dare take back what you said about being wrong. Why can't the same apply to ghosts? This is the first peaceful spirit than we have encountered so far, don't you want to take this as a chance to learn something?"

"This is stupid."

"This is hope, Dean."

Dean avoided his gaze, chewing on his bottom lip. Finally, he sighed in defeat and stuffed the phone back into the glove compartment, twisting the key in the ignition and bringing the engine to life. "Fine." He drove the car past the park's dark gate and towards their motel, letting out a yawn. Sam kept his eyes on him, a thankful smile pulling at his lips. After a moment of the silence Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced back at Grace, then at his brother. "How the hell do you wake a ghost?"

* * *

Grace violently shook her head, her palms up in front of her chest to shield her from the brothers, eyes wide. "No. I'm not leaving."

Dean narrowed his eyes, his hands on his hips, looking down at her with authority. "If you don't go, we'll set your room on fire."

The ghost glared, her mouth agape. She crossed her arms, disliking the proposition they have forced onto her. She felt like she was going cornered by an animal. "This is not fair," she shot back, stomping her foot.

"You'll get over it," the Winchester remarked with a smug smirk.

Grace's jaw snapped shut and she took a step forward, curling her fists when Sam interrupted her. "It's for the best." Grace's glare switched to him but he smiled unaffectedly, continuing to pack his things into a black duffel bag. "There are so many more things out there that would hurt you, and hurt the people you care about to get to you. You are endangering them by staying. "

Grace shook her head, standing her ground. "I don't care; I can handle whatever comes my way, from now on. Look, I appreciate what you've done and all but I am going home. I'm not leaving to see Bobby Singer!" With another stomp to the ground, the television in the room turned on and Sam left his task to turn it off.

Dean grinned. "Why? Is there some rough patch of romantic history between you two?"

"No!" Grace denied, shaking her head. Not trusting herself to keep from flinging her arms around she crossed them over her chest. "He," she looked up at their expectant stares and swallowed thickly before continuing, "Bobby Singer and Rufus Turner saved my life."

Dean's posture loosened and he surveyed her with wary eyes. "When?"

The ghost rubbed her arms, shuffling on her feet. "I was seventeen, it was a long time ago. I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

Sam walked up to stand beside his brother, crossing his arms. "So," his voice trailed off, as he tried to put bits and pieces together. "This isn't the first time you were attacked by something non-human."

She looked away and bit her lip, running a hand through her hair, refusing to answer their question. Then a small smile crossed her face and she turned to them with a smirk. "Alright. I will go with you, if you agree to a term of mine."

Sam opened his arms with an encouraging nod, motioning for her to continue. "Of course, anything."

Grace raised her head. "I am to start hunting with you."

Dean barked a laugh, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, right, nice try."

"I want to do what you do!" The ghost insisted.

"No," Dean shook his head, turning around to go to his own things laid out on his bed, and reached for his backpack to start shovelling them inside in a disorganised manner, as if his back would defer Grace from defying him. "This is wrong. All of this is wrong." He zipped it up and turned to face her, pointing an index finger to the ground. "You're not supposed to be here - you're supposed to have moved on."

"Look. You said it yourself that spirits turn into vengeful ones. Even the reaper who came to take me to the other side said the exact same thing. But I'm different. Yes, I get angry and I get annoyed but I never cross that line. Don't you think that I should do something with that?"

Dean gritted his jaw. "No," he spat out, his eyes flaring.

"Alright, fine," Grace shrugged, not showing how greatly his anger was affecting her. "Have fun." With that she disappeared with a flicker, and Sam winced, realising his mistake in not finding a way to somehow bind her to them.

"Great," Dean turned to him with a glare, rubbing the bridge of his nose in irritation. "What the hell are we supposed to do?"

Sam patted down his shirt and returned to his bed. "I have a feeling she'll be back, Dean. We should think about giving her a chance."

Dean scoffed, eyeing him with disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

Sam met his eyes, no traces of amusement on his expression. He was serious. "I don't know man, maybe she can actually be of use to us."

"Sure, Casper the Friendly Ghost over there," he shook his head, both amused and horrified at the notion. "Please."

Sam threw his arms out in exasperation. "Am I the only one who sees the advantage to having an ally that can walk through walls?"

Dean rolled his eyes but nodded in defeat. "Fine. But I ain't giving up on convincing her to move on."

"Never suggested that we should." Sam agreed, thankful that he managed to convince his brother to even consider the possibility that Grace could be of help. And if she was coming with them, there was a good chance she was paranoid enough to bring the object that binds her here with her. In the end, if she turned out to be a vengeful spirit after all, she would be easy to deal with. In his point of view, they had nothing to lose and something a little promising to gain.

Dean sighed and sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his face and leaving his head resting on his palms. "We're going to regret this one day, aren't we?"

Sam zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder with a nod of his head. "Most likely."

* * *

Grace's presence cooled the room and Tyler Connors shivered in his bed. The spirit frowned, quickly moving to stand next to her father and grabbing the folded blanket that was on the chair by the bed, she laid it over him and tucked him into it.

His eyes flickered open and widened in alarm before he saw her and relaxed, slowly sitting up and resting his back against the headboard. He scanned his daughter's ghost with a frown. "Is this a dream?" Grace nodded. "Then I should be glad, for it has not begun than my usual nightmares."

His daughter chuckled, settling down on the seat and shuffling closer until she could reach her father, taking his hand in hers and giving him a soft smile. "This is not a nightmare."

"Then I am glad." He coughed, wincing at the burn at the back of his throat. "This parasite of an illness haunts me even in my dreams."

Grace brushed his fingers, looking down at their entwined hands. "It hurts me to see you in pain."

"Can't say the same for my board members," he chuckled. "They can't wait for the cancer to consume me. Already fighting for my position and the grave hasn't even been dug yet for me to roll in it." His soft laughter turned into violent coughing and for the next few moments he was too preoccupied with doubling over in pain to remember to breathe. Anna stood from her seat and rubbed his back comfortingly, sighing in relief when with a pained look he straightened up, his chest rising unevenly.

"I'm sure the company will be fine," Grace offered. "There are a few good men on the board who will do right with it."

"This shouldn't have happened," he began, clearing his throat and reaching for the glass of water on his bedside cabinet. Grace handed it to him to stop him from moving. He thanked her and drained half the glass in one breath before continuing. "A father should not bury their child. It destroyed your mother, you know."

Grace looked down sadly, returning to the chair and waiting for him to finish his water with her hands in her lap. Just like the obedient child that she was. "Yes, I know."

He didn't look at her, his eyes not even seeing his own glass in his hands. He looked past it, his eyes glazed and unfocused. "You should have been married by now, with a child or two, even running the company if you wanted to. But instead, God ripped you away from us."

Grace bit her tongue, doubting that God was responsible at all but deciding not to voice her thoughts. Instead she smiled. "It's okay. It always will be."

Tyler Connors choked back a sob. "I would give anything to hold you again."

The ghost girl chuckled and took his hands in hers, giving it a light squeeze. "Don't worry, we'll be together soon."

"Yes," he agreed. "In Heaven. But not yet, your mother and you will have to wait for a little while."

Grace grinned, giving his hand another squeeze. "We already are. With open arms. Mother misses you terribly."

Her father smiled and his breathing began to even out the moment he closed his eyes. Grace bit back a tear and leaning forwards, kissed her father's forehead, whispering a silent goodbye.

She blinked and she was back in her bedroom, noticing that the furniture has been replaced to its rightful positions and the entire room visibly cleaned. She didn't give it much thought however, instead crossing over the bed and towards a dresser, pulling open the bottom draw without as much as moving a finger. Bending over the compartment, she rummaged through the dusty books and several articles of old, dirt ridden clothing before she uncovered and pulled out a small, metal box, barely larger than a deck of cards. She closed the draw with a flick of her hand and stuffed the object in the inside pocket of her jacket, giving her room one last sweep before closing her eyes and teleporting to where Sam and Dean were waiting for her outside the motel in the Impala.

Dean jumped in his seat, his hands gripping the wheel. When he noticed it was only Grace he glared, cursing when the radio switched on at her appearance, fumbling to turn the sound down. "Where the hell were you?"

Grace was examining her own coat instead of paying much attention to him. "Saying goodbye," she said it as if it was the most obvious explanation.

"Oh." Dean turned back to face the front and rolled his shoulders, remembering that the girl's father was still alive.

Sam gave Grace a small smile. "So you're ready to go?"

Grace took in a deep breath and nodded. "Yes. I'm ready."

* * *

**A/N: Another, awfully short one (please don't hit me). In the next one, Grace will reunite with Bobby so we'll see exactly what happened and what he will have to say about Grace joining them. Doubt he'll be happy.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Contains hints to some uncomfortable themes at one point. Not graphic at all or anything, barely mentions, but I thought I should put this warning up just in case.**

* * *

**V**

Bored.

She was bored.

They have been driving for hours, but to Grace it felt like days. When she woke from her slumber, the ghost found that it was nearing night time again, the horizon painted in warm, golden colours. The older of the brothers was driving the car and humming to a song that played quietly on the radio, turning it off when the other hunter released a small snore, passed out in the front passenger seat.

Grace sighed, and not being able to take the silence anymore shifted in her seat and leaned forwards, resting her elbows on the shoulders of the front seats. She gave Sam a short glance, checking that he was asleep before turning to Dean.

"You're dying." Dean twitched at her words but otherwise remained impassive. "Earlier you asked me what it was like to die. I'm right, aren't I?"

Dean turned to her with a dark smirk and the look in his eyes told the young girl to back off. She didn't budge however, linking her hands and resting her head in the middle. Dean sighed, trying to decide whether he should tell her. He had no wish or obligation to but one more look at her adjuring expression made up his mind. He rolled his eyes as he turned back to the road and Grace grinned, sensing his defeat. "Ever heard of a crossroads demon?"

The spirit scrunched her eyebrows in deep thought. "No. How are they different from normal demons? Apart from residing at the crossroads, I assume."

Dean rolled his eyes again, unable to stop himself. "They are the demons that you make a deal with."

Grace laughed, a little skeptical. "What, like selling your soul to the devil?"

He nodded. "Yeah, kind of like that."

Grace's smile dropped and she frowned. "So is that what you did? You sold your soul?" Dean nodded again, adjusting his grip on the wheel and fighting to keep it light enough to prevent his knuckles from turning white. He glanced at Grace and inwardly groaned, her expression a prelude to a scolding. But to his surprise she rested her head against the side of Sam's seat, dropping his gaze. "You sold your soul for Sam, didn't you? Something bad happened and you did it to save his life?"

"How did you know?"

Grace shrugged, her eyes focused on the road in front of them. "A shot in the dark – I got lucky."

"What made you think that I would save Sam's life, though," he argued, not satisfied by her answer, still unnerved at how she managed to figure it out so quickly.

She moved as if to turn to him but decided against it, simply smiling and closing her eyes. "If I had a brother, I would have done the same."

* * *

Sam smiled sympathetically as Grace climbed out of the Impala, shutting the door behind her as she bit her lip. "Are you ready?" He wanted to be careful and approach this as if walking on thin ice. After all, if she was saved by Bobby when she was still alive, their first meeting couldn't have been under good circumstances and he couldn't be sure what memories seeing the hunter again would bring.

Dean rolled his eyes and adjusting the bag over his shoulder walked towards the front porch, knocking on the door. "Let's just get this over with. I'm starving."

The spirit paid him no mind, scanning her surroundings and crossing her arms, pulling her jacket tighter around her. It was early morning and what appeared to be a salvage yard around her was mostly hidden in shadows. She looked back at the gate they drove through, only making out the words 'Singer' and 'Yard'. She raised an eyebrow, not having expected the hunter that saved her life to be a mechanic but the more she thought about it, it sort of made sense.

Bobby Singer threw open the front door and grabbing Dean by the collar of his shirt dragged him inside, the younger man yelling out in protest. "Where is she?"

Dean rolled his eyes and dropped his bag on the floor, straightening out his shirt. "What, no 'hello' for me?" Bobby glared, gritting his jaw. Dean threw his arms out in defence. "Grace, get your ghostly ass in here!" he hollered, giving Bobby a smile before stomping deeper into the house, his stomach rumbling.

"Grace?" Sam looked down at the ghost and placed a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, looking up at him in alarm but upon seeing a familiar face she sighed, nodding. She took in a deep breath and rolled her eyes at Dean's outburst, making Sam smile. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and steered them towards the house.

Bobby's eyes widened and his hand twitched towards the gun secured behind a belt to his back the moment that Sam and a shorter girl walked through the door. In the dim light she appeared as white as a sheet, a shy smile pulling at her lips. She looked the part of a ghost alright, but she didn't move to attack him. Instead she uncrossed one of her arms and gave him a small wave. "It's been a long time, Mr Singer."

Sam raised an eyebrow at the address, hadn't heard many people refer to the older hunter as anything other than his first name. He jumped away in surprise when Bobby lunged towards the girl and ripped her out of his hold, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. Grace staggered for a moment before grinning and returning the hug, Bobby almost lifting her from the ground.

"I can't believe I'm seeing you right now," he muttered into her shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. "You shouldn't be here, alive or dead." He pulled away and held her at an arm's length, giving her what he knew was an angry look from the way her smile fell in an instant. "What are you still here?"

She raised her head and gave him a proud smile. "I want to be a hunter!"

He anything but recoiled from the statement, his hands dropping to his side. "What?" That was definitely not the response he was expecting, having asked why she was still in this world. What kind of answer was that?!

Dean ventured into the hallway with his mouth stuffed with potato chips that he found on the table in the kitchen, raising his eyebrow when his brother screamed for help with his eyes before looking at the tense situation between them.

The ghost repeated herself, not showing the rejection she felt at his outburst. "I want to be a hunter. It's the least I could do-"

Bobby scoffed, shaking his head, not even letting her finish the sentence. "That's absurd!"

Grace seemed to hesitate before she crossed her arms and gave him a defying stare. "The Winchesters have already agreed with me. It's my choice after all. Didn't you, guys?"

Bobby gave the brothers an annoyed and betrayed glare, Sam and Dean muttering an incoherent excuse under their breath and retiring to the library. The hunter growled and shook his head. "Sam, Dean and I have some things to to talk about. This discussion isn't over," he declared, pointing an index finger at Grace and following after them.

The ghost growled and stomped her foot, sticking her tongue out at their retreating backs. She turned on her heel and made to leave the house but stopped in front of the door, sighing and turning back around, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

She found them in a room that resembled a living room with a large, decorated heptagram carved into the ceiling. For a moment she hesitated, afraid that it would act as a cage but when Sam noticed her presence and waved for her to join them she put her trust in him and found that the symbol didn't trap her. She dropped herself onto the sofa, silently following Bobby with her eyes as he conversed with the Winchesters in hushed voices, waiting for a moment when he didn't appear as if he might strangle her or the brothers so she could speak to him.

Only when he retreated into the kitchen a few hours later to make something that could resemble a cooked dinner did Grace attempt to approach him again, clearing her throat uncomfortably.

"What is it, kid?" The hunter called to her without turning.

She shuffled awkwardly in the kitchen doorway, her arms twitching beside her as if she didn't know what to do with them. Biting her lip she looked over her shoulder, making sure that Dean and Sam had their attention directed at the map outstretched over the desk. They had mentioned to her earlier that they were looking for a woman named Bella, but she didn't have a chance yet to ask them to what purpose.

Grace watched as Bobby warmed the stove and stepped into the room, sliding the doors shut behind her. Her mind screamed at her to just get to the point but the ghost chickened out, pulling her lips into a smile and she took a step towards the kitchen desk. "So," she began. "Do you still hunt with Rufus?"

Bobby shook his head, reaching for a cooking pot and filling it with water. "No, we haven't hunted together for fifteen years," his voice was gruff as if the subject was sore.

"Oh," Grace winched and mentally kicked herself. "That's a shame."

Bobby sighed and placing the pot on the cooker he turned around, resting against a counter. He crossed his arms and looked at Grace in both sadness and anger. "How long have you been dead?"

He knew exactly how long. He also knew the exact circumstances in which she died, having powered up his computer the minute Sam mentioned Tyler Connors' name. But that wasn't enough. He needed to hear it from her.

Grace shrugged, reaching the desk and sitting down on one of the chairs, resting her arms on the wooden surface in front of her. "Close to twenty years, I think. The actual year is a bit blurry."

"March 6, 1989," Bobby recited to her. Grace gave him a small smile, and looked down. "Four years after Rufus and I saved your life."

The ghost looked up in alarm when she sensed his guilt, immediately rising to her feet. "Bobby," she started but never finished, the hunter continuing as if she hadn't spoken his name at all.

"I saved you from a monster, and you died at the hands of a man." The girl shrugged and he shut his eyes, shaking his head. "You were just a kid when Rufus pulled you out from that hole in the ground. And you died a kid. This isn't how it's supposed to work."

"Well," Grace raised her shoulders with a small smile. "I was twenty-two years old." Not exactly a kid, in her eyes.

Bobby chuckled, the sound desperate and looked up at her with such pain in his eyes, she looked away. Then he straightened up and frowned, tilting his head. "You… You're really not a vengeful spirit? Not a death omen or a poltergeist?"

Grace shook her head and linked her arms behind her back, taking a step forward. "Nope, not a violent spirit. Although I'm not sure what you mean by 'death omen'.

Bobby grinned and scratched his chin, though the amusement didn't last for long. "You should move on. You shouldn't want to hunt."

"But I do," she insisted, stepping forward. He surveyed her with a doubtful look. "I know it won't be easy but I can learn, and I think – well, hope – that I can be of help. I even managed to banish a reaper on my own before I even met Sam and Dean!"

Bobby shook his head, looking at the ceiling. "I don't know, kid."

"Look - I think I mentioned this to the Winchesters already - I understand why you guys would be skeptical. Hell, I am skeptical and I haven't even encountered another spirit before!" She scratched her head, as if remembering something. "Although they said that if I do accompany them to a few cases, I will not be allowed on the ones involving ghosts unless I wanted to risk the high chance of me dying. Something about two spirits cancelling each other out." She shook her head, putting a stop to her rambling. "Anyway, what I was going to say is that if I do turn into a vengeful spirit, or whatever, I understand that you will have no choice but to kill me… uh… kill my spirit... which is me." She scratched her cheek, not sure it sounded like that in her head.

The hunter opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, processing the information in his head. The pleading look she gave him broke his heart, truly, but his hunter self knew that it wasn't that simple. Nothing ever was.

Grace sighed and looked down, biting her lip. "Look, I'm not telling you to trust me with your life. It's too much of a responsibility for someone like me." Bobby winced, again being reminded at the horrifically short amount of time that has passed between when he saved her life and when she was murdered. "I actually wanted to give you something."

He looked up with a raised eyebrow as she dug into her coat and pulled out a small metal box, holding it out towards him. The same box she took from her bedroom before leaving. "What this?"

Grace smiled and motioned for him to take it. "It's the thing that keeps me here."

He took the object from her, noticing the elegant carvings decorating the lid while the rest of it was smooth. It was without a scrape as if brand new, but the surface has matted with age, having lost its shine. He looked up, the box suddenly heavy in his palm. "Why are you giving me this? You said you wanted to stay."

"I do, more than anything! But… I am a ghost and you guys are hunters who kill things like me, so you know, beggars can't be choosers..." She smiled but it was as gone as soon as it came and she looked to the side, avoiding his intent gaze. "I am not going to lie and say that it will make me happy, in fact I will probably be very annoyed, but I promise you that I will not blame you or try to stop you if you decide to burn it."

Bobby nodded, catching up on what she was trying to say. She was giving him the choice, putting his opinion above her own existence. He stroked the metal box, tracing the engravings with his thumb. "When Rufus and I had no choice but to use you as bait all those years ago, you said you trusted us with your life. You really want to do that again?"

Grace smiled. "Always."

* * *

Grace was asleep on the couch in the 'library', stretched out with one of her legs dangling over the edge. She had her arms around a pillow that Bobby put under hear head too, having buried her face in it so only her hair showed. Bobby and Dean were sitting on the desk to the side, books and maps in front of them, trying to do some work but hardly being able to focus, their attention clouded by the fact that a ghost – a spirit for God's sake – was sleeping right next to them.

Grace didn't want to distract them, patiently sitting on the couch and reading one of the books about demons that Bobby gave to her to start learning about them, occasionally looking over at them with a smile. She read a good portion too, recognising the symbol on the ceiling above her as something called The Devil's Trap, composed of two pentacles from the Lesser Key of Solomon. Apparently it was used against demons to cage them and strip them from their demonic abilities.

But soon she was beginning to doze off and finally flopped to her side with her eyes closed sometime after Sam had left on a grocery run.

_"Don't forget the pie!"_

Well, Dean shouldn't have been surprised, having seen Grace sleep in the car, but he still was. He explained to Bobby that Grace slept as they were driving to his and Bobby was just as confused, not having heard of a ghost to ever be doing that, noting aloud that they should perhaps look into the ghost mythology deeper. Later, of course, after more immediate matters were dealt with.

Dean agreed, curious. He stood up from the desk and got two beers out, passing one to Bobby. He opened the bottle, chugged down a generous portion and taking in a deep breath, yelled at Grace at the top of his lungs to "wake up". He followed that by shutting a book loudly by her ear, throwing it loudly to the ground. And when after a few more attempts he started to get annoyed he stood behind the couch and pushed her off.

To their surprise Grace just groaned and buried her face into the ground, remaining asleep. Dean turned to meet Bobby's wide eyes and threw his hands up in disbelief. "What the hell, man?" Bobby simply shook his head, his mouth agape. Dean put his beer on the desk before picking Grace up and dumping her back on the sofa. It seemed like she was really asleep, not just pretending. Her chest even moved up and down and she breathed evenly despite the lack of any pulse. And not only that, but it appeared like she was a heavy sleeper too.

Bobby almost chuckled, knowing that it wasn't a very good habit for a hunter, but Grace could learn with a little training.

…

Training?

Bobby groaned and closing the book he was reading, buried his face in his palms. Dean gave him a sympathetic glance, as if sensing what the older hunter was going through and sat down next to him, taking a sip of his beer. "So," he began, catching Bobby's attention and waiting until he looked up. "Exactly how did you two meet?"

Bobby sighed and closed his eyes, trying to remember the one case amongst so many he had worked. When it came back to him he sat up and took his own beer in his hands as if holding something would comfort him.

He gave Dean a small smile. "It feels like a different lifetime, Dean, it was such a long time ago. I was still hunting with Rufus back then. In fact we - well, mostly me - only just started hunting, taking every case we could find, without break. Then we found one in California – Grace didn't really live there back then, she was accompanying her father on a business trip.  
"Anyway, there were reports of missing teenagers in the state: five kids in as much months. All girls, fifteen to seventeen years old, disappeared during a full moon."

Dean sat up, his interest piqued. "A werewolf."

Bobby nodded, taking a sip of his beer. "Yeah. Well, the authorities thought it was a serial killer so obviously the whole state was in an uproar. It was hard enough for Rufus and me to find information, let alone know where to start. I hate to say this but we were lucky when Grace was kidnapped. You see, since she was a child of Tyler Connors she carried this bag with her at all times, when she was out at school or with friends. It contained one of those old tracking devices the FBI used to put under people's cars. So, a few break-ins later we managed to track Grace to an underground cellar in a forest. The police have searched the place but obviously they didn't think to check in the ground."

Dean mentally noted down to be a little more thankful for the age of technology. "You found her?"

Bobby smiled sadly. "Yeah, she was alive, and we found three other girls with her too. We have gotten there just in time for Grace to not have been hurt, having only seen the werewolf twice. Unfortunately we also found out that the other two, the first to be kidnapped were dead."

The Winchester frowned, a heavy feeling settling his stomach. "What do you mean that Grace was not hurt? Were the other girls hurt? Hurt how?"

The older hunter swallowed thickly, clearing his throat and looking down at his hands. "This werewolf that we chased was a pureblood, you see. Now you know already know that unlike regular werewolves, those guys are closer to the Alpha in generations and can control themselves much better. Some, choose this control to consume animal hearts rather than humans while others do not put themselves under such moral obligation. This Werewolf, wanted to… expand his family line in the more 'pure' way, as he himself put it before we put a silver bullet in his chest. He was trying to create a newborn child instead of biting humans. He must have killed the girls when they refused to comply.  
After we found the remaining kidnapees – luckily their physical damage didn't extend further than scrapes and bruises – we knew that the werewolf will come looking. He could only take one girl a month, when he turned. Grace volunteered to be bait because she was the only one that didn't scream when as much as a flashlight was pointed at her – the others required immediate psychiatric help. Long story short we killed the werewolf, explained to Grace that we were hunters and went our separate ways."

When he finished his story Bobby relaxed his shoulders and rested his head in his hands. "You don't expect something like this to happen," he muttered more to himself than Dean, though the younger man was listening intently, absorbing every detail of Bobby's tale in his head. It seemed almost strange, the idea of Bobby out in the field instead of answering phone-calls and flicking through pages of Latin. "When you save a person you feel like you, well, saved them. You expect them to go on to live long, happy lives."

Dean nodded in understanding. "I know what you mean, Bobby. It must be hard to see her as a wandering spirit. Makes you wonder how many people out of the ones we saved are similar, or ever worse." He jabbed a finger in Grace's direction and picking up a pencil marked the spot on the map where they last barely escaped Lilith. The incident with Special Agent Victor Henriksen reminded him as to why it happened in the first place and he growled, his nails digging into the map as it was brought to his attention yet again that Bella – he wanted to use her picture for target practise – has stolen the Colt.

"Wandering?" Bobby chuckled.

"Yeah," Dean frowned and loosened his grip on the map, resisting the urge to topple the table over. He looked up, as if only registering what Bobby said. "Wait, what did I say?"

"Nothing, nothing," The older hunter shook his head with a small smile. Releasing a heavy breath he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the metal box that Grace had given him earlier that day.

Dean was looking down at his hands again, his fingers curling into fists. Dammit, this wasn't what he wanted to associate with, the concept of chasing – or running away from, in Lilith's case – girls around the country. Literally. He ran a hand down his face and groaned, his eyes flickering up at Bobby. He sat up with a raised eyebrow when he noticed a glint of metal in the man's grip. "What's that?"

"This is the object that keeps her here." Bobby rotated it in his hands for a few more moments before sighing and softly putting it down between them on the map. He leaned back in his chair with a frown, chewing on his lip and tapping his fingers against the table. He looked past Dean at Grace, her form undisturbed.

Dean followed his gaze and sighed, leaning forward again and resting his arms on the table. "We should burn it."

The older hunter nodded and chuckled. "We should, shouldn't we?" He laced his fingers and looked down, his foot tapping against the floor.

"Well then," Dean sighed and gave him a smile. He stood to his feet, the chair scraping against the floor and picked up the metal box weighing it in his palm. Bobby sat up, his eyes wide. "Do you know what's inside?" The older hunter shook his head and Dean shrugged. "Let's find out."

Dean twisted the box, digging his nail into the gap in the metal and pulled the lid open, humming at what he found inside. He reached in and placed the box back on the desk, revealing to Bobby an old key. He let it drop from his palm and it tangled from around his finger by a thin leather cord.

"Well," he addressed the older hunter, holding it out towards him. "We did hear her before, you know, Sam and I. The doors ain't that thick. Her life," he almost bit his tongue at the term," is in your hands."

Bobby sighed at took the key from Dean, knowing that in that very room there were exactly three lighters, not counting the one that Dean had in his pocket. He could burn the key before Grace wakes.

But he didn't reach for a single one.

He sighed and slumped back in his seat, as if already regretting what he chose to do. The hunter pushed the metal box's parts towards Dean and told him to hide it. To hide it anywhere. Dean nodded and with a small smile walked away, and Bobby could hear his footsteps descending to the basement.

He looked up at Grace's sleeping form for the last time and stood from his chair, heading to the kitchen to get another beer. He stuffed the key into the front pocket of his shirt, patting it in place and started to think of all the places where he could hide it if he decided not to wear it around his neck. "I really hope I'm doing the right thing."

* * *

**A/N: So, how was it? Next chapter will begin to bring in the plot of the end of season three, since it looks like Grace is staying, huh. No point of dragging it out as other things about her can always be revealed later on. **


	6. Chapter 6

**VI**

Grace sighed, sitting on one of the chairs in the old living room with her knees drawn to her chest. Although she was facing the fire, the flame replacing the paleness of her skin with a warm glow, she followed Sam with her eyes, as he paced around the room where the devil's trap was drawn a while ago, the floor still drying.

She shivered and Sam turned to her, giving her a small smile. Grace smiled back but the gesture didn't reach her eyes and she turned back to the roaring fireplace as Sam's phone rang and he picked up, immediately answering with the practised authority of an FBI agent.

It has been weeks, maybe more since she took off with the Winchesters, Bobby at first reluctant in letting her go; only allowing her to leave once she promised to check in once in a while. In secret he had hoped that spending some time with Sam and Dean would deter her from the concept of hunting, no matter how excited and determined she seemed. Hell, he would have felt safer if she went hunting with him, but the girl kept insisting on going with the Winchesters and he had to realise that he couldn't stop her from walking through the walls. She left with a smile over her shoulder.

Much to Grace's dismay however, they haven't done much hunting at all. Instead, she has been informed that not only Dean made the deal for only one year but that very year was also running out. Fast. It was shocking to the ghost to even imagine that demons – hounds, Sam corrected her – would come for him so quickly, and even the usual ten years seemed far too short of a time to make the best of whatever people sell their souls for. Wasn't the soul itself enough?

Dean and Sam drove from town to town, torturing demon after demon, trying to find out who holds Dean's deal. And even though she must have expected it, she still couldn't stop her eyes from widening when they tied up a possessed man to a chair over the symbol drawn on the wood and poured holy water down his throat as the demon laughed and taunted Dean about his deal and what awaited him when the hounds will drag him to hell.

Dean had three weeks. And although he played it cool, she knew that deep down he was afraid.

Grace closed her eyes, trying to block out the memory of what happened in the room not even an hour ago.

The man tied to the chair looked no less human to her than the people she passed on the street. He looked as human as Dean and Sam were – even more so. The only indication of possession was the fact that he was unable to get out from the devil's trap and that he burned when the holy water came into contact with his skin. He even begged for his life until Dean poured the water down his throat, announcing an ultimatum and the man laughed, his eyes enveloped in a black mist that was gone as soon as it came.

Sam exorcised him with a chant of Latin once the brothers realised that the demon was not going to tell them anything of use.

But even meeting a demon for the first time – well, not meeting, she followed Dean and Sam's instructions to remain invisible to them at all costs while they were torturing the man for answers – paled in comparison to the new light that the brothers appeared in.

She never saw them this angry, not even at the demons they exercised before. Grace didn't know whether it was exhaustion or the lack of answers that was pushing their buttons but they were a terrifying sight when they stood over the dark man tied to the chair. Time was running out and they haven't even moved from square one. The ghost couldn't shake the image of malicious glee that was brought forward by the brother's desperation. If they flinched, it was only out of anger.

And as if Dean's impending doom wasn't enough, they had some new demon leader after them called Lilith who wanted Sam's head on a plate – or, his intestines on a stick, as Dean put it, the expression on his face signalling he was quoting somebody he wasn't very fond of.

Grace groaned, rubbing her eyes tiredly and leaving them covered with her palms. Her head hurt. She felt like she was being bombarded with information and their current predicament made her guess that she didn't even touch the tip of the iceberg of their problems.

She wanted to ask about their past of course, from the moment they piled in the car and took off from Bobby's, but the brothers were so focused she didn't have the heart to break their concentration. And after what happened earlier that day, she made a point not to get on their bad side.

Sam's voice reached her ears and she let her head hit the back of the chair against the hardened with age surface. Taking in a deep breath she lowered her arms and let the limbs wrap around her legs and turned towards the hunter, the tall man's eyebrows drawn together.

"He ran the prints twice? Are you sure?" Grace didn't know who Sam was talking to but he didn't sound happy to be having that particular conversation. They both heard the front door open and they turned towards the sound, seeing Dean shuffle back into the room, covered in dirt up to his knees. "Okay… Yeah, thanks, I'll tell the Lieutenant," Sam hung up and directed his next question to his brother. "Did you bury the body?"

Dean nodded and Grace frowned at the casual tone of Sam's voice. Dean to her relief didn't sound as relaxed. "Yeah, poor schmuck. It's like those demons ride them hard just for kicks," he exhaled, opening a beer that stood on the window sill and sitting down on the chair next to Grace, eyeing her self-comforting posture. Grace returned the look, hiding the fact that she was both disappointed – just as the brothers were – and shocked that the exorcism killed the man. Sam had told her as Dean carried the body outside, that it only happened if demons did a lot of damage to their 'meat suit'. The term made her flinch. "What was the phone call about?"

Sam turned towards his brother, stuffing the phone in the back pocket of his jeans. "Remember that thing in the paper yesterday?"

"'Stripper suffocates a dude with thighs'?"

Grace rolled her eyes at Dean's retort but couldn't stop the amused smirk from pulling at her lips and faced the fireplace again before Dean could notice and his ego could inflate any more.

Sam forced himself not to comment on Dean's words. "The other thing."

"Ah," Dean nodded, "the guy that walks into the ER and kneels over dead, with his stomach ripped out."

"His liver, actually," Sam corrected and Grace looked at him over the side of her chair with a raised eyebrow, not recalling him doing any research on the article. "I just found something pretty damn interesting."

Dean motioned for him to continue and took a swig of his beer. "What?"

"A dead body, covered in bloody fingerprints, not the victim's," Sam smiled at him.

"Okay, great. My man Dave Caruso will be stoked to hear it," Dean retorted. The reference to the bloody fingerprints was lost on Grace's ears and the ghost shifted in her seat, racking her brain to recall what he said but drawing a blank.

Sam rolled his eyes. "But those fingerprints match a guy who died in 1981."

Dean raised an eyebrow and sat up with interest. "Really? So what are we talking: Walking Dead?" Walking Killing Dead?"

Grace turned to him with a disapproving look, still trying to figure out how they could be so ruthless one moment, and make jokes seconds later. Sam merely shrugged. "Maybe."

The ghost then turned to him, sitting up. "Did you guys even deal with zombies before?"

Sam smiled and nodded. "Yeah, we have actually." Grace didn't return the gesture, annoyed that the list of supernatural beings was growing with every day that she spent with them.

Dean wasn't paying attention to their exchange, the bottle to his lips as he spoke more to himself than the others. "Zombies do like the other, other white meat, huh." He took another sip of his beer and refocused on his brother. "Speaking of, why do you care about zombies?"

"What do you mean?" If Sam knew where Dean was going with his question, he hid it well.

Dean leaned back in his chair and raised his legs over the edge of the armrest where his feet rested on Grace's seat. She rolled her eyes at his manners and ignored the smug look he sent her way, answering his brother's question with one of his own. "You've been focused on nothing but the soul-saving detail. We got three weeks left and suddenly you're interested in some hot zombie action?"

"Hey man, you're the one who wanted to get back to hunting, I just thought I'd be doing you a favour," Sam defended himself, his hands up. He was right, Dean although content with exorcising demon after demon – well, when they weren't looking for Bella – was mainly following Sam's wishes who was intent on finding a way to save his brother.

"Hey, no, no, no, no," Dean violently shook his head as he rose to his feet. "I didn't say I didn't wanna do it, okay." He shifted on his feet and grinned. "I mean obviously I wanna hunt some zombies." Grace couldn't help but laugh at the childish look of excitement on his face.

"Okay fine, whatever," Sam nodded, and Grace's smile fell, feeling like there was more to the case than he was saying. But she didn't press the matter as he got up to pack his bag, instead turning to

Dean as he nudged her shoulder with the beer bottle in his hand. She glared at the object before meeting his eyes. He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. "Ready to fight the undead?" He then frowned, recalling the choice of his words that just left his mouth and then attempted to cover up his discomfort with the bottle of beer.

Grace chuckled, letting her feet lower to the ground and rose from the chair, lightly hitting his upper arm with a closed fist. "Smooth, Dean."

* * *

Grace stood behind Dean and Sam with her shoulders straight, her hands linked behind her back and her head held high. Nobody could see her of course but that didn't mean she couldn't play the part. The Winchesters in front of her towered above her, in dark suits and ties. They once again were FBI agents, just like when she first encountered them in her home, only this time instead of questioning the witnesses they were standing in the morgue of Erie's hospital, breathing in the air of the disinfectant.

She had to admit: they did look good in those suits. And she was pretty sure they knew it too, even Dean, the one who kept fidgeting and pulling at his tie, feeling out of place when he wasn't wearing his hunter attire. But it took more than a suit and a commanding voice to be an FBI agent.

"When the liver was ripped out, did you happen to notice any teeth marks?"

Grace didn't even bother to stop her laughter from erupting when the member of staff the brothers were questioning gave them an incredulous look before demanding to see their badges. She was hardly surprised.

Sam cleared his throat. "Of course sure," he exchanged a look with Dean and they both reached into the inside pockets of their jackets and pulled out their fake FBI identifications.

The morgue attendant surveyed them with distaste until the badges were safe behind their suits again, scoffing. "Fine. So you're cops and morons."

Grace laughed again, perhaps enjoying this far too much than she should have. She reminded herself to follow them everywhere, expecting similar hilarity from everyone they would question. After all, most of people weren't as naïve as the brothers expected them to be.

Dean stood straighter, as if he could intimidate the member of staff with his posture. "Excuse me? No, we're very smart."

"I don't think he believes you," Grace sang as she followed the trio, the morgue attendant leading the brothers towards the storage unit.

"The liver was not ripped out," he explained, opening one of the metal doors and rolling out a body, moving the sheet covering it just enough to show them a clean and precise scar on the man's abdomen. "It was removed by a surgeon who knew their way around a scalpel." Dean and Sam nodded, almost impressed. He frowned at them, noticing their surprise. "Didn't you read my report?"

Dean grinned, arrogance showing through his façade. "Of course we did. It was riveting, a page turner."

The morgue attendant covered up the body, glaring at him as he pushed the tray back inside, the body disappearing into the thin hole. "You're done?"

Dean nodded, the smile not wavering a bit. "I think so."

"Please go away," the man almost begged.

The Winchester brothers obeyed with smiles, leaving the room and turning the corner as they entered a long corridor, dodging past the people dressed in pale blue clothing. Grace hurried after them, an amused grin stretching from ear to ear. "Do you guys always make such a convincing impression?"

Her words fell on empty ears as she dodged a tray, out of instinct more than a need to and ran after the brothers until she fell in step with them. She convinced herself that the sooner she left, the quicker she could get back to being visible, not letting herself admit that being in a building full of corpses made her uncomfortable.

Dean shifted when the air around him turned colder and turned to his brother, immediately recognised the look on Sam's face. He raised an eyebrow, practically seeing the gears turn in the younger man's head. "What?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing. So, that kind of punches the whole in our zombie theory huh, that scalpel thing?"

"Yeah, zombie with skills. Dr Quinn. Medicine Zombie," Dean chuckled at his own joke, Grace rolling her eyes, highly doubting that any zombie could handle a delicate tool like a scalpel.

"Maybe we're on the wrong track, Dean, looking at hacked-up corpses," Sam said as they pushed open the double doors in front of them, immediately slowing their walk once they were out of the rushing crowd, letting themselves relax.

"What should we be looking for, then?"

Sam rolled his eyes and stopped, Grace not paying attention and walking straight through him. "We should talk to survivors, Dean," he said, rubbing his shoulder. "This isn't zombie lunch, this is organ theft."

Grace groaned in protest when the Winchesters resumed their walking and left the building, set on their way to the upper floors of the hospital where the latest victim of the said crime was recovering.

* * *

"I wish I could still eat," Grace muttered, hungrily eyeing the food that Dean was laying over the desk as Sam sat on the opposite end, his eyes squinting at the computer screen as he scrolled through a website on the early 19th century medical procedures.

She laid on one of the beds of The Erie Hotel room, not being able to recall or care whether it was Sam's or Dean's bed. Her feet and arms were crossed but her upper body rested against the wooden headboard, her only attempt in keeping her eyes open. She was exhausted, and the bed was inviting – so much more comfortable than the back seat of the Impala.

She told the brothers she deserved the rest. On the way to the hotel, Grace had tried to convince to get a bedroom with three beds this time. She was tired of sleeping on the couches, or even worse, not sleep at all until they were on the road again. Of course they had refused, repeating to her time and time again that it would look suspicious and they already attracted more attention to themselves than they wanted. When she entered The Erie Hotel room she groaned when she realised that there wasn't even a couch, refusing to stay up all night again.

Grace stomped her foot, saying that if they don't get an extra bed she will take one of theirs and they can share the one left over. Dean had whirled around and yelled out "We're not sharing the bed!" just as he was opening the door to go out to get food, people staring with annoyance at his exclamation. Dean cursed and shut the door, muttering something under his breath about ghosts and how they shouldn't be sleeping.

In the end, the spirit slumped on one of the beds; defeated, knowing that she couldn't argue with them. All she could do was rest on the beds while they weren't in use. And that was what she was doing at that exact moment as she watched Dean, trying to remember the taste of food.

The trio's visit to the hospital room to ask the survivor some questions turned up nothing. All they found out was that the man was attacked from behind and then woke up strapped to a table, recalling being in 'the worst pain he could ever imagine, only worse'. And when he recovered consciousness from having blacked out from the pain, he woke up screaming in a motel room in a bathtub filled with ice.

"_Do you remember anything about the surgery; you know what the guy looked like, any details about the room?"_

"_Let me think about that. Yeah... one thing is coming back to me... you know what I remember? Getting my kidney cut out of my body!"_

As annoying as his refusal to cooperate was, Grace couldn't blame him. There were only so many questions you could be asked before you snapped, annoyed. Answers to the same questions over and over again were not going to bring his kidney back, indeed.

"Yeah, well tough," Dean brought Grace back to reality and she glared as he grinned and unwrapping a burger in front of her settled down on one of the chairs. "Ghosts don't eat."

Sam looked up at their banter, giving Grace an apologetic smile before turning to his brother and deciding to get to the point. "So, I got a theory."

"Yeah?" Dean bit into his burger, making a point of humming loudly in satisfaction if only to annoy the ghost who rolled her eyes at him and considered throwing a pillow at his face.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, talking to Mr Giggles' doctor I found out that the incisions were sown up with silk."

"Weird," Dean muttered, taking another huge bite before he even finished chewing the last one. Grace glared at the side of his face, her shoulders slumping.

Sam, always the history buff, corrected his brother. "Now it is, but silk used to be the thread of choice in 19th century." He turned the laptop towards Dean who freed one of his hands and flicked through images showing the sketches of human anatomy on the screen. Sam continued his explanation as Dean took a closer look at the website his brother was scrounging, reading through the annotated surgery drawings. "I mean, all of it was really problematic, the incisions would get massive infections, and the death rate was insane."

Dean sighed with nostalgia. "Good times."

"Right," Sam agreed, too excited with his findings to tell Dean off. "So doctors had to do whatever they could to keep infections from spreading. One way," he smiled slowly, fully aware of the effect of his next words, "was to use maggots."

Dean made a disgusted sound and Grace grinned, throwing him an amused glance. "Dude, I'm eating!" His glare was a warning for Sam to shut his mouth, a burning intent to do so himself if he didn't.

Sam ignored him, his smile widening even further. "It actually kinda worked because maggots eat bad tissue and leave good tissue, and hear this: when they found our guy, his body cavity was full of maggots-"

This time even Grace made an uncomfortable sound. Dean groaned again, his hand that was holding the burger dropping to the desk. "Dude, I'm eating!" Sam rolled his eyes, waiting for him to stop chewing. "Okay, let me get this straight. So people are getting attacked, right, 'Antiques Roadshow' surgery, organ theft - why does this sound familiar?"

Sam sat up, glad that Dean was finally catching up. "Because you heard it before." When Dean tilted his head in questioned he elaborated. "When you were a kid. From dad."

Grace sat up, her ears strained with interest. This is the first time in their presence that the Winchesters have mentioned either of their parents. She watched as Sam pulled out a leather bound journal from the mountain of newspapers and research material he had collected and placed it in front of Dean, opening it up to the relevant page. Grace dragged herself out of bed and reached Dean just as he picked up the journal in his own hands. She stood behind him, peering at the thing over his shoulder.

On the page, surrounded by the writing too small for Grace to make out and a few newspaper clippings glued messily on the paper, a simple sketch stood out, clear and detailed despite the shaky lines. In the middle there was a triangle, filled with symbols of what she could guess was alchemy. The shape was circled by what appeared to be a serpent and a dragon, both biting the opposing creature's tail. To the side, words 'eternal life' capitalised as an annotation.

"Dr Benton," Sam began, reciting the words they heard as children, Grace listening to what he said intently while she never took her eyes off the sketch, taking in every detail, "a doctor, lived in New Hampshire. Brilliant and obsessed with alchemy, especially how to live forever. So in 1816, Dr Benton stops his practise-"

"Yeah, nobody hears from him for like twenty years and then all of a sudden people start showing up dead," Dean finished it up for him, never missing a beat or a single word as if they have heard the story a hundred times.

"Dead or missing an organ or a hand, or some other kind of part," Sam corrected him.

Dean waved him off. "Right, because whatever he was doing was actually working. He just kept on ticking. Parts would wear out, he would replace them." He looked up at Sam with confusion, holding the book up higher when he noticed Grace's presence behind him at the corner of his eye. "I thought dad hunted him down and took his heart out."

Grace straightened up and squinted at the side of Dean's face. "Your father was a hunter too?"

Her question was ignored. Sam shrugged at Dean. "I guess the doc plugged in a new one."

The elder Winchester brother dropped the journal and raised the burger to his mouth again, taking a big bite. Grace frowned, annoyed that neither of them have answered her question. She stared at him for a few more moments before realising that she wasn't going to get a response and sulking back to bed, returning to her previous position with a yawn.

Dean pushed the journal towards Sam, focusing on his food. "Alright, where's he doing the deed?"

Sam picked up the discarded family heirloom and read the writing above the alchemy symbols. "According to this, Ben's picky about where he does his lab work. He likes forests, with access to clean and fresh water."

Dean pulled a face. "Why?"

Grace rolled her eyes. "Because he's a doctor?" she retorted, crossing her arms, Dean throwing her a small glare which she gladly returned.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "Because that's where he likes to dump the bile and the intestines and the faecal matter," his voice trailed off and he smirked proudly when Dean made a gagging noise, the bite he was about to swallow stuck in his throat. "You lost your appetite yet?"

Dean glared at him finally managing to swallow the bite. He shook himself in disgust and looked down. He considered the burger in his hands before pouting. "Oh, baby, I can't stay mad at you," he muttered to the food before devouring the burger.

Sam chuckled and shook his head, turning the laptop around and resuming his research, to figure out exactly where, this Dr Benton resides.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know, Dean doesn't really have an ego to inflate, but hey, Grace doesn't exactly know that yet, does she.**


	7. Chapter 7

**VII**

Dean and Sam looked over the maps stretched out below them, on the same bed on which Grace was dozing off. As Sam circled small brown rectangles on one of the maps, Dean slapped Grace's leg when he noticed that her eyes had closed, effectively making her jump. "Don't fall asleep, kiddo," he warned her when her eyes opened and she glared at him. Grace rolled her eyes yawned, shifting so she could more easily see the map that the brothers were focusing on.

"So these," Sam pointed to the images he circles in a red marker, "are all hunting cabins that have been abandoned for years."

Grace raised a questioning eyebrow. "You think that the doc will be in one of those?"

Sam nodded. "Definitely."

"Well, then what are we waiting for?" Dean asked the both of them, excitedly rubbing his arms together. Any response was interrupted by a ringing of his phone. Dean sat up and picked it, flipping it open only after a glance at the caller ID. "Bobby?... Oh, you have news about Bella? I'm listening…"

Grace sat up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She turned to Sam and crossed her arms, recognising the familiar name. "Who's Bella again?

Sam gave her a glance before refocusing on the map. "She's a thief. She stole the Colt from us."

The ghost frowned, moving closer. "What's the Colt?"

Sam looked up with a mild annoyance, finding it hard to focus on both the map and Dean's conversation when the girl was asking him questions. "It's something very important to us, but I'll tell you later, alright?" he promised with a small smile, eager to just get back to work. Grace nodded, and they both refocused on Dean.

"… And he thinks it's Bella?... Hmm, she used that before," dean bit his lip before chuckling. "Well, that's kind of a sloppy move, getting in contact with your old hunter friend?" He both frowned and laughed and whatever it was that Bobby said next. "Thanks a lot, Bobby… Okay." He hung up and stuffed the phone in his jean pocket, getting up from the bed, addressing the two people hunched over the maps. "Come on, we're going after Bella, she's been sighted in Canaan, Vermont - that's only a couple of hours away."

"What?" Sam exclaimed, sitting up. "Woah, hang on a second."

Dean pulled his coat on as if his brother never uttered a word. "Get your stuff, the clock's ticking."

"I think we should stay here, finish the case," Sam argued, motioning to the maps by his side. Grace nodded, agreeing, confused as to why Dean would just drop everything to chase somebody in another town.

Dean stared at then as if they've grown two heads. "Are you insane?"

"Dean, there's no way she still has the Colt that was months ago. She probably sold it the second she got it!"

"Well then I'll kill her one way or another then," Dean threatened. Grace shivered at the determination in his voice. Sam tried to protest again, but Dean interrupted him as soon as his name left his lips. "Sam! We're going." He pulled the bag from under his bed and threw it on the covers, piling stuff inside, motioning for Grace to get up as well. "You too, Casper, get your lazy ass up. The man we're going to see if Rufus Turner."

Grace sat up in excitement as she recognised the name and grinned, only to find Sam's hand in the way as he threw it out in front of her to stop her. She raised an eyebrow but Sam didn't turn to her, swallowing and raising his head. "No."

Dean threw up his arms. "Why the hell not?"

"Dean, this, here, now, this is what's gonna save you!" Grace's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.

"What, chasing some Frankenstein?" Dean laughed, shaking his head. Grace's smile lowered and she sunk back into her seat on the bed, immediately sensing the impending argument.

"Chasing immortality," Sam shot back, lowering his arms when he was sure that Grace wouldn't leave... "Look, he can't die. If we find out how he did, we can do it to you!"

"What are you talking about?" chorused the other two people in the room, Grace curious while Dean angry that Sam didn't do as told.

"You have to die before you go to hell, right?" Sam smiled, lacing his hands. "So if you can never die-"

Dean shook his arms in front of him. "Wait, wait a second. Did you know that this was Doc Ben from the jump?" Grace winced at the accusing tone.

"No," Sam hesitated before giving in with a sigh. "Look, I was hoping-"

"So the whole zombie thing, you were lying to me?" Dean looked as if he's just been betrayed.

"I didn't wanna say anything until I was sure, Dean," Sam defended himself. "Look, all I'm trying to do is find an answer here."

Dean rolled his eyes, turning back to his bag. "Right, so what you're doing here is not trying to kill this son of a bitch - No, you wanna buy him a freaking beer and study him."

Sam frowned. "I was just trying to help."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah well you're not helping," he yelled, violently closing his bag. Sam closed his eyes in exasperation, and Grace looked between the two with worry, not having witnessed the two of them argue so loudly before. Dean sighed and turned back to his brother with a glare. "You don't get that if I welch out of this deal, you die. Guess what: living forever falls under that category."

Sam sighed, raising his arms in surrender. "Well fine, whatever the deal is I'll take it too."

Dean laughed. "What is this, Sid and Nancy? No we're not going to do that. What Bobby recommended is what we will do: we kill the demon that holds my contract and hope that this whole wide thing is wiped clean. That's our best shot."

"Even if you have the Colt, Dean, who are you gonna shoot?" Sam pointed out the flaw in their plan. "How do we know who holds the ticket?"

Dean groaned at the ceiling. "We'll shoot the hounds before they slash me up, then." He turned to his brother with his arms held out. "Now you're coming or not?

Sam shook his head, rising to his feet. "I'm staying here."

"No, you're not," Dean took intimidating steps towards his brother, the anger in his face frightening Grace. The ghost backed away until her back hit the headboard. "I'm not gonna let you wonder out in the woods alone to track some organ stealing freak."

"Hey!" Grace frowned, about to complain further about the 'alone' part but zipper her lips, realising that she barely qualified as a helping hand, let alone a hunter. In all retrospect, Sam really would be going after Dr Benton alone. The fact made her bones itch in irritation and she bit her lip.

Sam kept his eyes level with Dean's, not blinking. "You're not gonna let me?"

"No, I'm not gonna let you."

Sam straightened his shoulders, a challenging smile on his lips. "How you're gonna stop me?" Dean frowned and looked away, as if surprised at Sam's stubbornness. "Look, man, I'm trying to do the same thing here."

Dean nodded and reaching for the bag, pulled it to rest over his shoulder. "I know, but I'm going. So if you wanna stay, stay." Sam crossed his arms and looked away, gritting his jaw. "You're coming with me, or staying?"

Only when Dean looked up at Grace did she realise that the question was directed at her. She smiled, about to nod, eager to see the man that saved her with Bobby all those years ago but she stopped herself. She remembered what Bobby said, that he hadn't seen Rufus for over fifteen years, and a bad feeling settled in her stomach. Bobby and Rufus were close. Like brothers. She couldn't imagine what had happened to result in their separation.

And she couldn't imagine how he, a hunter after all, would react to finding out that she is a ghost. So no matter how much she wanted to lay eyes on him again, she sighed heavily and shook her head, her decision made.

Dean nodded, understanding in his eyes as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and moved to leave the room, hesitating in the door way with his hand on the handle of the open door. Turned to them for the last time, sighing. "Sammy, be careful."

Sam turned around and unfolded his arms, stuffing them in the pockets of his jeans, nodding. "You too."

Dean gave him a small smile. "Take care of the kid," he said before leaving and shutting the door behind him.

"I will," Sam and Grace both called after him, the latter settling back down on the bed with a sigh.

Sam turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "Really?" She just grinned, the smile falling when Sam ran a hand through his hair.

He settled down next to her, picking up the maps again, a tense silence in the air. Grace cleared her throat uncomfortably and looked down at her feet. "Are you guys often like this?"

Sam exhaled heavily and nodded, folding up the map with the marked cabins. "Yeah, you wouldn't believe it."

Grace widened her eyes, rubbing the back of her neck, her ears still ringing from their shouting. "Wow, this makes me a little glad I was the only child, you know." Sam chuckled before refocusing on another map. "And I thought mommy and daddy shouting matches were bad."

* * *

Grace hissed as her head bounced against the glass, having been resting against the window when Sam drove over a bump in the tracks. Sam didn't pay her any attention, intently scanning his surroundings with the map laid over his knees to make sure that they didn't turn the wrong way.

They were in a car, driving into the forest towards where the abandoned cabins were located. Grace wasn't sure whether car was stolen or rented and decided, against her better judgement, not to ask. They had left the hotel a few hours after Dean left, and although it seemed like a long enough of a time for Sam to cool down, he still appeared tense even when he tried to make conversation to pass the time.

At first, Grace was careful to tread on any painful subjects, simply enquiring what the Colt was. Sam explained to her that it was a gun that could kill demons, and a lot of other creatures. Bobby repaired it with help of Ruby – Sam ignored Grace's question when she asked who the woman was – after the brothers used the last of the bullets to kill Azazel as Dean shot the yellow-eyed demon in his chest as their father's soul held him in his grip, having momentarily escaped hell.

That was when Grace decided to mention their father again, all the questions that were swimming in her head beginning to give her a headache. If their father was a hunter also, were Sam and Dean brought up as hunters from an early age? After all that seemed the most logical outcome. And why the hell was he in hell?

Of course, Grace didn't get an answer to a single of those questions. Sam quieted her down the moment she mentioned his father's journal, saying that perhaps it wasn't the best time to talk about his history. The ghost was hurt at first, annoyed at how typical it was that the moment she finally musters the courage to ask, she is shot down, but in the end she nodded in agreement, focusing on the passing trees.

She sat up when the car slowed to a stop in a small clearing, spying an old wooden cabin sticking out through the gap in the trees. Sam killed the engine and the both of them exited the car and Sam locked it, holding the map at an eye-level as they walked deeper into the forest to first cabin they laid eyes on.

Grace looked up at the cloudy sky, sighing in relief when she noticed that they had a good hour before it would begin to turn dark. Dean hadn't called them with an update yet, but she assumed that perhaps he was busy. Well, she hoped that he was busy, and not angry at her or Sam for not going after Bella with him.

The first two cabins turned up nothing, barely any belongings inside apart from an odd fishing net or a shovel. Abandoned seemed almost too kind of description for them, the walls rotting and crumbling down. When Grace made a mistake of leaning against a small table she crashed to the ground, almost having stomped the furniture to dust. Sam had pointed the flashlight at her face and rolled his eyes, announcing that they should inspect the next cabin on the map. Grace agreed, nodding her head enthusiastically, anxious to leave the embarrassment behind her.

So when they entered the third cabin and found it cluttered with belongings she almost danced for joy. Sam also straightened up, shutting the door behind them and turning on his flashlight, immediately going towards one of the shelves filled to the brim with boxes.

Grace coughed and walked towards one of tables picking up a book and blowing the dust from the cover, frowning when the title didn't ring a bell. She put it back down only to pick up another and pout again, inspecting every single book on the wooden surface within a minute at which point she dropped what she was holding with a huff and turned around in a circle to find something that looked promising.

Sam didn't have any more luck than his companion, finding nothing of interest in any of the boxes or the books and almost ready to give up when he noticed a red, leather bound journal and called Grace's name. She approached his side and watched as he wiped the cover with his sleeve, both of them recognising the familiar symbol that was carved into the cover - the same one that was drawn in John Winchester's journal.

Sam kept the object in a tight grip under his arm and the two explored the cabin with renewed hope, soon finding a wooden door in the floor, half covered by a dusty carpet. They threw it to the corner and when Grace opened the latch Sam was already walking down the creaky stairs.

Grace rolled her eyes and followed him, grumbling under her breath the entire time. "Sure, let's go down to the creepy old basement, nothing potentially dangerous there at all."

Sam turned to her only to put a finger to his lips, silently telling her to be quiet. He continued downwards slowly, his gun the first thing to emerge from behind the railing.

They first saw shelves upon shelves of vials and jars filled to the brim with foul smelling substances that made Grace wrinkle her nose. "I guess we found the doc's hideout," she muttered only to be shushed again. She stuck her tongue out at the back of the hunter's head. But as Sam finally set foot on the level ground he ignored the doctor's belongings, instead striding over to a man strapped to the table.

Grace slowly made her way toward the shelves, her sleeve over her nose. She made a gagging noise, noticing that more than a few of the jars were filled with small, crawling worms.

To her side, Sam inspected the man's jogging attire, frowning at the deep cut on his chest. When he brought two fingers to the man's neck and found the lack of pulse his suspicion was confirmed. He cursed, biting his lip, annoyed that they were too late.

"Grace," he called, when his eyes flickered to the wall at the man's feet. The ghost turned towards him to see that Sam has moved from the dead victim to the wall covered with drawings and writing, the sheets of paper covering it from floor to the ceiling. She frowned, about to approach him when in the corner of her eyes she noticed long strips of warn fabric, frayed just enough for them to see another table, and a body on top of it.

"Sam."

The hunter turned towards Grace and followed the direction she was pointing, immediately stepping past the curtains towards the hidden operating table, Grace following suit. This time it was a young woman, also strapped to the table apart from one of her arms. The hand was placed to her side, the skin of her forearm removed and maggots eating away at the flesh. Luckily, there was no sign of any other injuries.

Grace groaned and reaching for the nearest object, which happened to be a thin tube, wrapped it into a stiff circle and began to slowly push the maggots away from the hand, noticing that the girl stirred uncomfortably when the tube brushed the raw skin.

Sam however didn't notice the movement, and reached to check for a pulse. His fingers hadn't even touched her skin when the girl's eyes shot open and she gasped awake, immediately screaming at the sight of him and the feeling of the leather straps keeping her tied down. Sam winced and shushed her, telling her that it was alright, and that he was going to help her. But his voice didn't register and the girl continued struggling, panicking even more.

Sam looked up at Grace, and motioned with his wrist towards his neck. Grace nodded and disappeared, realising that the woman was very likely frightened enough without witnessing a ghost by her side. Sam spied a blanket and covered the girl's arm, the young woman crying out in pain so loudly he had to cover her mouth with his palm. He told her to be quiet again and she calmed as he worked on removing the leather straps around her other arm. A distant sound of an opening door made the girl jump and her breathing picked up again and Grace used the distraction to untie the girl's legs.

Hearing the approaching footsteps, Sam freed the girl completely and threw the blanket covering her to the ground, carefully holding her arm as he helped her up. Seeing a window he sighed in relief, noticing that it was already broken, thanks to the cabin having been abandoned for a long time before the doctor made it his residence.

He climbed through and then stuck his hands out to the girl. She wrapped her fingers around his and he pulled her up, the woman crying out in pain. Noticing that she could barely stand let lone run, Sam picked her up in his arms and carried her towards where he parked the car.

Grace remained in the basement for a little while longer, feeling as if her heart was bursting out through her chest. It just registered to her how the whole room was like a scene from a horror film. A figure shrouded in shadow appeared from behind the stairs, stopping at the sight of the empty table where the girl was lying just moments ago. By the time the man turned towards the window, Grace was gone.

She teleported back to the car, glad that she remembered the space where it was parked well enough to end up appearing in the back seat. She shook the imagine of Dr Benton out of her head, shivering at the thick stitches and the mismatched colours of the patches of skin that covered his face. When Sam appeared from behind the trees she moved her hand and unlocked the vehicle just as the hunter pulled open the passenger's door and place the girl in the seat, apologising again when he handled her too roughly and she cried out in pain.

He then shut the door and ran around to the driver's seat, bringing the engine to life the moment he settled in the chair. He shut the door and pressed his foot on the gas pedal but just that very moment Grace yelled at him to look out just as Dr Benton crashed through the window, his arms around Sam's neck.

The girl screamed as the doctor repeatedly bashed Sam's head against the steering wheel and Grace winced. Disorientated but reacting as quickly as he could, the hunter put the car in reverse and drove backwards the way they first arrived, the doctor falling to the ground and rolling in the dirt.

After a few metres of reversing, Sam stopped and turned the car around in a circle in the clearing, running over Dr Benton just as he looked up. The car shook but the hunter didn't look back, his eyes trained on the road out in front of them, the girl too busy to care that they just ran over her kidnapper, focusing on calming her racing heart.

Grace did turn to look behind them, frowning when she saw the doctor get back up, his head bent at an odd angle. He wrapped his hands around it and cracked his head back into place, staring at them as they drove away, a small trail of blood leaving one of his eyes. The ghost pouted and turned back to face the front, crossing her arms.

* * *

Grace was nervously pacing the room, her arms crossed and her thumb in between her teeth. Her eyes flickered to Sam and she frowned at his relaxed state, the man sitting at the table and flicking through Dr Benton's journal. He took the girl they found to the nearest hospital, trying to keep her calm enough to ask her not to mention them. She complied, just happy to be out of the basement and receiving medical attention. The only words she said to them was a dozen repetitions of 'thank you'.

She told Sam that she saw the doctor get back and he was hardly surprised. The ghost was worried that they would be followed, trying to convince Sam to change the hotel rooms but he waved her off, reassuring her that they wouldn't be found. They just had to wait through the night and resume the hunt for Dr Benton in the morning, by which time hopefully Dean would be back.

Sam hummed, squinting at the writing in the doctor's book and Grace sighed, sitting down on the bed and resting her chin on the headboard, looking out through the window that they have opened to let in some fresh air to cool down the stuffy room. "Maybe we should burn him or something," she mumbled but drew her eyebrows together. "Or maybe not, burning someone alive sounds a little sadistic."

Sam threw her a glance over the edge of his book as he turned the page. "Burn who?"

"Dr Benton," Grace explained, staring at the glare of the street lamp outside the hotel. "I mean, we ran him over and he stood up uninjured. Which, by the way," she winced uncomfortably, "is extremely unsettling.

Sam's opened his mouth to reply but his phone on the bedside cabinet began to ring and he anything but jumped over the bed to get it and answered, Grace feeling the bed shift under his weight when he sat down next to her.

"Dean," he began and Grace turned to him over her shoulder. "Did you get the colt?" Dean's answer must not have been what he wanted to hear because Sam ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily. "Bella doesn't deserve to die, Dean."

"What's wrong?" Grace asked, leaning towards Sam, unable to hear Dean's side of the conversation.

"Bella and the Colt was a goose chase," Sam answered for her and she nodded with a frown as he focused on Dean again. "No… Well, maybe not." Grace followed him with his eyes as he got up from the bed and returned to the seat where he was reading and analysing the doctor's work. "I found Benton's cabin… Yeah… No, Dean, please just listen for a second. I found his lab book and it has the formula."

"What formula?" Grace sat up, intrigued, having not realised that Sam was searching for something in particular in the doctor's journal.

Sam didn't reply to her, instead shaking his head at something Dean said. "No, that's the thing it's not black magic, there's no sacrifice or anything, Dean, it's science. Very extremely weird science-" his convincing tone didn't seem to work because whatever it was his brother said made Sam drop the book on the table with an annoyed sigh. "I think this is a chance, Dean, this is what might help us. This formula might be it, this could save you!" He hesitated, throwing Grace a glance who raised a questioning eyebrow in return. "Right, I mean look, we're not exactly in the clear yet, there's still things that I don't get I just-"

When Grace didn't receive an answer from Sam she had turned back to glare through the window, so when he was abruptly cut off with a yell, she looked at him in curiosity only for her eyes to widen when she saw Dr Benton with a cloth to Sam's mouth, dragging him to the ground. Grace didn't hesitate for a moment, jumping to her feet and rushing to help Sam escape the doctor's grip.

What she didn't expect was for the attacker to fling his arm backwards and with inhuman strength hit her across the face. She gasped and stumbled back, falling over when her legs tripped over Sam's discarded bag. She yelled out for Sam when she saw his arms go limp, Dean's faint shouting heard from the phone where it lay on the carpet having been dropped during the struggle, before a sharp pain pierced the back of her neck.

The ghost groaned and flickered out of vision, Dr Benton not paying her any attention as he lifted Sam's tall frame and began to drag it out of the hotel room without a second glance to his surroundings. Before leaving he did look to where Grace feel and rose an eyebrow when he found the space empty, but when he realised that nothing was coming to attack him from around the corner he simply shrugged and left the room, locking the door behind him.

Grace woke no more than an hour later, being roughly shaken by the shoulder. She groaned and when the memories of what happened rushed to her head she sat up with a flash, calling out Sam's name.

When Dean saw that she was awake he sighed in relief. "Thank god, I thought I was gonna have to find some ghost water or something to throw at you," chuckled, instinctively scanning her for any injuries before stopping himself.

"Dean," Grace grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt and attempted to use it as a support to stand up but her legs gave out. "Dr Benton took Sam!"

"Yes, I know," Dean interrupted her, holding up a hand for her to stop talking. He pulled Grace's arm around his shoulder and helped her up. "Are you alright? Do you remember where you guys found the cabin?"

Grace nodded, wriggling out of his hold when she had a firm grip on the ground beneath her feet. "Yeah, I remember clearly. He'll be there too, he has too many of his tools to move elsewhere so quickly," she said, already moving towards the door, Dean on her heels. "I'm sorry, Dean, the guy had chloroform, I didn't expect him to be that strong-"

"It's alright," Dean dismissed her apology. Grace opened her mouth to add to her statement but Dean waved her off, pushing her lightly out of the door and towards the Impala, telling her to make herself invisible – "or whatever it is you do" – so the other hotel guests wouldn't freak out. "Seriously, kid, it's fine. Let's just get to Sam before Dr Frankenstein does anything to him."


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII**

Dean, just as always, made his appearance at just the right time, never failing to make an entrance.

Grace had lead him to the abandoned cabin and with a finger to her lips opened the wooden latch to the basement, pointing at the opening before flickering and disappearing. Dean unsheathed his weapon and made his way down the stairs with surprising silence, but not before whispering for Grace to follow him. She did, covering a knife he handed to her in a clear vial, and stopping him in the middle of the stairs to give it back to him along with the bottle they found amidst the doctor's collection.

Sam was strapped to something that perhaps a long time ago resembled an operating table, leather strips over his ankles, wrists and his chest, rendering him immobile. Even his head was held in place, his eyelids forced to stay open. Dean pulled the trigger just as Dr Benton was about to fish out Sam's eyes.

The doctor straightened up as more shots were fired and looked down at his chest, blood seeping through the bullets that went straight through him. He cracked his neck and placing the tool he was holding next to Sam on the table, turning to Dean to see the man with a raised gun pointing straight at him.

He chuckled sinisterly, stepping towards him. "Shoot all you want," he mused, ducking under the opening in the curtains, advancing on Dean. Grace's passing was nothing more to him that a gust of wind. The hunter didn't complain, shooting him once more, his hand hesitating when it didn't do any damage and the doctor simply picked him up and threw him across the room. The hunter crashed into a cabinet, knocking over the contents on top of it to the ground and he winced as glass smashed around him.

Dr Benton crossed over to him in two big strides and leaned over him, reaching into his apron's pockets. Dean used that short second to pull out a knife and drive it into the centre of the doctor's chest. The man straightened up and laughed, not even moving to pull it out.

"A knife?" he mocked, cocking his head to the side and giving the hunter by his feet a pitiful look. "Which part of 'immortality' do you not understand?" Dean answered with a glare and the doctor shrugged, looking back down at the knife with a frown, the wound bleeding even less that the bullet holes. "Pity about the heart though, it is a brand new one."

"Good," Dean hissed maliciously, "should be pumping nice and strong, then, sending this stuff throughout your whole body," he shifted and from his pockets pulled out a bottle of the same liquid he instructed Grace to pour over the knife that was currently sticking out Dr Benton's chest. "Picked up your little bottle upstairs and dipped a knife in it."

Sam observed their fight by sound only, trying to figure out who had the winning hand, and flinched when a cold sensation enveloped his foot. He was about to open his mouth to call out for help when to his surprise the leather straps pinning his legs to the end of the table were loosened. "Grace?" he called out with realisation but the ghost didn't show herself. Instead ignoring his question and untying his hands. When his limbs were free Grace freed his head and Sam removed the strap over his chest by himself and took off the strips of tape that were keeping his eyes open, rubbing the sore skin with a wince.

He jumped up from the table, thanking Grace silently and rushed over to Dean, catching his breath when he was by his side. Before Dean had even finished saying his words, the doctor's eyes have rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed on the floor. Sam helped his brother up and they took a few steps back.

They stared down at the body and Sam lightly hit Dean's arm, motioning towards the protruding knife. "How did you know that was gonna work?"

Dean shrugged, shuffling his feet and patting down his clothes, brushing the broken pieces of glass from his shoulders. "Honestly? No idea. Just a lucky guess."

"Oh," Sam nodded, impressed. He straightened up, exhaling heavily. "We should probably tie him up or something."

"Yup," Dean agreed and once the two of them recovered from the fight – well, Sam from almost having his eyes pulled out – they lifted Dr Benton from the ground and strapped him to one of the doctor's own tables, making sure to tie every single one of the leather bonds extra tightly.

"Hiya, doc!" Dean yelled down at the doctor with a grin when he finally stirred awake, slowly opening his eyes. "Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!"

The doctor licked his lips, his head still swimming from the liquid in his system. "Please-"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Please, what?" he interrupted the doctor below them. "You've been killing poor bastards for over a hundred and fifty years and you got a request? Shut up!"

Doctor Benton shook from his words, but didn't cower away, his eyes narrowed in determination. "You don't understand, I can help you, I know what you need."

Sam sighed, ignoring the doctor and addressing his brother. "You know, we could try cutting him up into little bits, but this immortality thing might be a bitch-"

Dr Benton interrupted him, trying to convince the brothers to let him go. "I could read the formula for you!"

Dean chuckled, as if the concept was ridiculous. And in his eyes it was. "Let me guess, you would fix me up, just like you? Immortality: forever young, never dying?"

Sam looked up at his brother expectantly. "Dean."

Dean stared back at him. "Sam."

Sam motioned for the both of them to speak in private and Dean, with a roll of his eyes, followed him out of the immediate company of Grace and Dr Benton, until they stood outside the room. The doctor looked up at them attempting to follow them with his eyes, trying to sit up but Grace wrapped her fingers into the collar of his shirt and pushed him back down with all her might. She smiled as the doctor sputtered, not being able to see Grace thus becoming increasingly frustrated at the sudden weight on his chest.

Dean smirked, figuring out exactly why the doctor found it hard to move and turned to face Sam, rolling his shoulders. "What?"

Sam sighed, pointing towards the doctor on the table. "We're talking hell in three weeks or getting a new pancreas every half a century."

Dean shook his head, annoyed that Sam was still suggesting that. "We can't exactly get those in 'Kwik-E-Mart'," he whispered harshly.

Sam sighed, lowering his head. "It's not about that. This can buy us more time until we can think of something better. Please, just think about it?" he pleaded, not wanting to accept the fact that his brother was refusing to even consider the offer.

Dean didn't even give the doctor a glance as shook his head with sharp finality. "No."

When Sam raised his voice, Grace looked up, her ears straining as she overheard grasps of the brothers' conversation. "Dean, don't you wanna live?"

His brother sounded almost disgusted. "What he is isn't living… This is simple."

"Simple?"

"To me it is!" Dean yelled and Grace flinched, looking down at the doctor under her grip with a frown. "Black or white, human or not human." He stalked back into the room, Sam following him with his eyes. Grace removed her hold from Dr Benton and he sighed in relief only to cower away again when Dean loomed over him. The hunter unknowingly brushed the ghost's shoulder as he stood by her side and she recoiled as if burnt. Dean glared down at the doctor, his lips curled back over his lips. "Now you see what the doc is, is a fricking monster." Sam stared at him, Dean half obscured from his vision by the string of a curtain separating them. "I can't do it. I can't become like him. I would rather go to hell."

He turned and grabbed a stray piece of cloth, pouring over it the same liquid that Dr Benton undoubtedly used to knock out his own victims, before putting the bottle by the doctor's head, his oddly coloured eyes staring up at the hunter in fear.

"You don't understand, I can help you-"

Dean rolled his eyes and held the cloth over the doctor's sputtering mouth, his protests drowned out by the wet fabric. He looked up at Sam expectantly. "Now, I'm gonna take care of him. You can either help me or not, it's up to you."

Sam didn't answer, simply waiting for the doctor to pass out before approaching and removing the straps they wrapped around the doctor's body earlier to keep him tied up, since the man demonstrated earlier that he could easily overpower them both. For a short moment the brothers hesitated, deliberating in what they should bury him until a small tap reached their ears. They looked towards the sound, noticing the door of an old fridge swing open.

"Good idea, Grace," Dean called out, even though he couldn't see the ghost.

Sam turned to his brother to see him grin. He rolled his eyes, leaving the operating table to find a chain and a lock that were in a good condition. It took him a while, but hours later, when the east end of the night sky's horizon was just beginning to lighten, they had dug a deep hole outside one of the abandoned cabins, lowering Dr Benton inside, locked into the old fridge with a thick chain that rattled when the doctor finally awoke, and banged at the brothers to let them out.

They drowned out his screams, shovelling dirt onto him as Grace sat beside them on the ground with her legs crossed beneath her and her chin resting in her palms, her elbows propped on her knees. She stared down at the grave with a frown until the brothers levelled the soil in front of them.

They could have cut him up in little pieces, but somehow that wasn't enough. No, they would have done this if he acquired immortality in a different way, accidentally or not, and if he truly wished to die. But for this man – no, monster – death would have been too easy.

It will be a while before his organs give out. A few decades at the very least. And he had killed many people therefore he deserved to spend those years trapped, alone, knowing that the immortality that he worked so hard to achieve was slipping through his fingertips.

* * *

The Winchesters and Grace Connors drove along the highway, watching the passing streetlights. Grace was reading the book that Bobby had forced her to take with her, staring at the illustration of the hellhounds on the page. She has been staring at the picture for the last half an hour, occasionally looking up at Dean and then back at the illustration, wondering whether the writer of the book was correct in saying that the hounds were the size of a human man. The very idea made the hairs of her neck stand.

Dean suddenly sat up and hummed, checking his watch. "Oh, it's time." Sam yawned and passed him a phone in which Dean immediately punched in a number and put the cell to his ear.

"Here we go," Grace muttered, Sam throwing her a small smile over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes, barely fazed anymore that the brothers had a habit of talking on the phone, 99% of the time that they were driving.

Was it so hard for Sam to do the talking? No, of course it was. Dean had to get the last word. Grace chuckled at their childishness, amused, but also finding it unnecessary. But boys will be boys.

"Hiya, Bella." They could practically hear the smile in Dean's voice. "Here's a fun fact you may not know I felt your hand in my pocket when you swiped that motel receipt… Oh, I'm pretty sure I understand perfectly. See, I noticed something interesting in your hotel room, something tucked above the door. A herb: Devil Shoestring." At the name, Grace looked back at the book and flicked to a few pages back, her eyes finding the sketch of a long and thin, dried bunch of flowers tied together. "There's only one use for that: Holding hellhounds at bay. So you know what I did?" I went back and took another look and your folk's records. Turns out they died ten years ago, today. You didn't kill them. A demon did your dirty work." He paused, to allow his words to sink in. "You made a deal, didn't you, Bella, and it's come due."

Grace rolled her eyes and leaned forwards, shutting the book and throwing it to the side. "Does he have to do this?"

Sam shrugged, his eyes never leaving the road. "I think he kind of enjoys it."

"Is that why you stole the colt, huh?" Dean taunted further. "Trying to wiggle out of your deal? The gun for your soul?... But the Colt wasn't quite enough I'm guessing." He gave Sam and Grace a smug look. "Really? Wow. Demons, untrustworthy – shocker. That's kind of a tight deadline, too." He looked at his watch more out of a show that a need to know the time. "Oh, look at that. It's almost midnight."

Grace frowned, lightly hitting him in the shoulder. "Stop it, Dean, you're about to cross the line of poking fun and venturing into the territory of being cruel."

Dean let go of the wheel for a second to slap her hand away. "Sweetheart, we are weeks past help… Yeah, you're right, you don't. But you know what the biggest bitch of the bunch is? If you just came forward and asked for help, we probably could have used the Colt to save you."

That was the moment Grace pulled her eyebrows together, having realised that Dean definitely was the man to hold a grudge against those who wronged him. In his eyes, Bella deserved what she was about to get.

He sat up suddenly, throwing Sam a glance. "Lilith?" Sam turned to him, alert, the trio in the car exchanging a worried glance, all of them recognising the name of the new demon leader. Dean looked both pained and determined at the same time as he bit his lip and turned back to the road. "This can't help you Bella, not now. Why are you telling me this?" At her response he sat up and nodded. "I'll see you in hell," he finished, before hanging up and throwing the phone into his lap.

Grace leaned back, chewing on her lip, guessing that they would not deal with the thief again. But as she laid down across the seat, intent on catching up on some sleep she couldn't help but wonder whether, despite what the woman did, Bella deserved to be ripped to shreds by the hellhounds.

* * *

Grace huffed and sat up, her head pounding with a sharp headache. She had tried to fall asleep, but it looked like her body didn't agree with her, forcing her to stay awake. She glared at Sam enviously, noticing that even the hunter was dozing off, his head rested against the back of his chair, his hair brushing the condensation on the window.

After Sam fell asleep, Dean finding the silence uncomfortable, decided to get both of their minds off Bella's almost certain and death – not that he felt guilty or anything, he convinced himself – and tell Grace about his visit to see the retired hunter, Rufus Turner.

Of course the visit wasn't as eventful as he expected it to be. Soon after he left to go after Bella, he received a voicemail message from Sam's phone, Grace telling him not to mention her to Rufus when he finally sees the hunter. Dean was more than happy to do as she said, not only understanding why she would ask that but also glad to just focus on getting the Colt back. He told the ghost how Rufus was doing, and Grace had laughed when Dean told her that the hunter didn't invite him in until he bribed him with a bottle of 'Johnnie Walker Blue'. And seeing the smile on her face, Dean decided then and there to not tell her any of the more grim details of the conversation he had with Rufus, feeling a small responsibility not to tarnish the retired hunters imagine in the girl's eyes.

But that was a few hours ago and the silence was getting to Grace, especially when sleep evaded her.

The ghost yawned and leaned forward in the chair, a small smile pulling at her lips. "Hey, psst," she called towards the driver, grinning when his ears twitched.

"Oh no," he shook his head with a roll of his eyes. "Do not make this a thing."

Grace frowned, but amusement danced in her eyes. "Make what a thing?"

"This," Dean motioned to the air around them, "okay? The whole 'Oh, hey, let's have a late drive heart-to-heart conversation about our feelings' shit, alright? I'm not quite sure I'm still over the whole, Sam wanting me to be like Dr Frankenstein, deal."

Grace chuckled, looking at the side of Sam's sleeping face. "He just tried to do what he thought was right, you know. He doesn't want to lose you."

Dean rolled his eyes, tightening the grip on the steering wheel. "What did I just say?"

The ghost raised her hands in surrender and sat back down, but didn't drop the smile until she looked out through the window, replaying the events in her mind. She crossed her arms, remembering what little she heard of the conversation between Sam and Dean and the unsettling feeling that Dean's words stirred inside of her.

Dean glanced at her through the rear-view window and cursed under his breath, correctly guessing at what she was thinking about.

Although he wouldn't have taken back a single word that he said to his brother, he did feel a little bit guilty for letting Grace accidentally overhear them. And he knew she heard them, or she would continue to bug him to talk about his feelings. When he said the words 'it's black or white' he was referring to himself. He was not going to change himself into a monster to survive. He was either remaining human, or going to hell as a man. There was no in-between.

But when it came to things he hunted, he was proven more than once –grace being one of the examples – that some of the 'monsters' weren't as bad as he and Sam initially thought. Some of them, not bad at all. But of course Grace heard his words out of context, although even if she had heard his entire speech, he was sure she still would have taken them the same way, and wouldn't know what he truly meant.

He sighed and hesitated on what he was about to do, but shook his head, making up his mind. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out his father's journal, throwing it at the ghost over his shoulder and watched her intently through the rear-view window with a small, proud smile.

Grace didn't react at first, thinking it's just another book that Bobby assigned for 'homework'. But when she exhaled heavily and finally looked down at it, her eyes widened. She picked it up slowly, as if handling something hundreds of years old and with shaking fingers undid the clasp. She gave Dean such a thankful look that he smirked, the ghost glowing as if he had just dropped a bag of gold into her lap.

She cleared her throat and smiled at the back of Dean's head. "Thank you," the ghost finally mustered the words to say and he nodded to her over his shoulder.

"Enjoy, kid." After a moment he held up a finger and turned to her, giving her a wary look. "Just, don't hurt it."

Grace grinned and shook her head, clutching the journal to her chest and holding up a hand as if to swear an oath. "I won't. I promise."

* * *

**A/N: You never really realise how much can be said in a minute until you have to stop the episode every five seconds, trying to figure out what the hell it was that they just said. And I'm still pretty sure I've got 99% of the dialogue wrong – well, the parts I didn't change intentionally. Anyways, I hope this was enjoyable.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: A bit late, but Happy Holidays, you guys!**

* * *

**IX**

Dean tapped his lips with the pen in his hands, humming. "Teleportation: check. Thermokinesis…." He put the pen down on the desk and slowly breathed out, squinting at his warm breath leaving through his lips in a cloud of smoke. He shivered and reaching for the shirt that rested over the back of his chair he pulled it on over his t-shirt, glaring at the side of Grace's face the entire time. "Check. Telekinesis," he watched intently as the ghost on the other side of the desk turned a page of the journal in front of her without using her hands, twice, "double check."

Grace sighed and looked up from the page she was reading, turning to him. "What are you doing?"

Dean tapped the paper with a few lines of writing on it, a couple of books over. "Noting down how many abilities you have."

The ghost shifted in her seat until she was facing him and put the journal down on the desk between them, raising an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you know by now, having encountered dozens of ghosts and all?"

Dean smiled mockingly. "Yeah, well you're a freak by ghost standards."

Grace gave him a displeased look. "You could have just asked," she said, pouting.

"Well do you have anything that you haven't showed us yet?" Dean asked expectantly.

Grace shrugged and appeared to be thinking for a moment, before shaking her head and looking back down at the journal. "I don't think so."

Dean rolled his eyes, throwing his arms up. "See, this is why I didn't ask." He looked down at the book in front of him and turned a page with a heavy sigh. His expression turned to that of distaste when he was faced with a large, life-like illustration of a hellhound, formed from human bones and its jaws open as if it was snarling at him through the page.

The hunter scratched his head and after giving Grace one last glance he shrugged and crossing his arms on the desk, rested his head on top of them, yawning. After a few minutes the ghost looked up from the annotated ad highlighted newspaper clippings, raising an eyebrow when her ears heard the soft snoring emitting from the man in front of her. She rolled her eyes and chuckled under hear breath before returning to her reading.

The last few weeks were strange, both stressful and relaxing at the same time. They were still actively looking for a way to save Dean and interrogating demons on Lilith's whereabouts, but mostly they were saving people again. Three cases in a fortnight – well, two for Grace. The ghost was made to sit out on one of them due to a vengeful spirit being involved.

She didn't protest too much, fully aware of what could happen when two different spirits are in one place, but it didn't stop her from feeling a little annoyed at the fact that she was yet to become a hunter in their eyes.

From Dean and Sam's point of view, they didn't see anything for her to be angry about. She was in danger and they weren't going to acknowledge her as a full-fledged hunter until she earned it – although that didn't mean she wasn't of help.

The real reason they made her sit out the last case was due to an incident which the brothers were still trying to figure out how to approach. They were interrogating a demon, for the first time letting Grace to play the part of a hunter instead of staying concealed like before. And it worked at the beginning: the demon thought at first glance that she was alive and human. But soon he realised that she was a ghost and his interest surprised – and pissed off – Sam and Dean. They ordered Grace to leave the basement, something that she did without a question, and continued to interrogate the demon without her. The reprobate had the nerve to refuse to answer their questions unless they told him more about her. He was curious about not only their alliance, but also why she wasn't a vengeful spirit, somehow aware of the exact amount of years she was dead for. They refused of course, exchanging one glance before exorcising him.

That's what they were most worried about when it came to Grace, the interest of the outside parties. They already knew not to speak to other hunters about her, and they knew Bobby was keeping his end of the deal, but one wrong move could push Grace into the spotlight and Dean and Sam already had enough of that certain attention on themselves alone.

The ghost sighed and rubbed a hand over her face, momentarily closing her eyes. Then she leaned back and closed John Winchester's journal after a glance to the door through which Sam left only a moment ago to go speak with Bobby. They were in one of the cabins in Bobby Singer's Salvage Yard, deciding that as much as the warmth of Bobby's house was welcoming, they thought it best to keep the current research away from any of their old cases, especially since they were cutting it so short.

Very short.

Dean had just a little over a day left and thus the trio turned back to Bobby's, hoping that the older hunter could help them. Grace of course, was more than happy at the change of location, having missed the man. She did call him as he asked, often to simply relay to him their cases and how they were doing. She also asked him for any updates of a way they could help Dean though she kept that little detail to herself.

Grace reached over to a bag underneath the chair she was sitting on and buried the journal inside, making sure that it was hidden under a hex bag and a few books on top of it. Then she turned back to the table and being careful not to wake Dean she took one of the books that Bobby threw at him, opening it to the marked section about the crossroads deals. She was only reading the journal in the first place to take a little break from helping Dean with the research – and since she was back at Bobby's she found it that she could only read it when Bobby was not in the same room. The hunter's distaste for the boys' father was evident from the moment he set his eyes on the book in her hands and glared at it as if it was the man himself.

She didn't want to make Bobby angry so in his company she busied herself with helping all the men in the room. She would lie if she said she didn't want to prove herself, and observing the hunters made her feel safe and like she was learning something important. She was happy at Bobby's house, the feeling of home surrounding her the moment she stepped through the door and the hug she received every morning was like the ribbon on the wrapped present. The ghost found that she barely missed home at all.

A quiet groan interrupted Grace's thoughts and she looked up from the book, raising an eyebrow at Dean. She shook her head and was about go back to reading when the hunter moved again, his eyebrows drawn together as if in great distress. When he moaned in pain was when the ghost put the book down and reached over the table to shake him.

"Dean?" The man jumped awake as her fingers brushed his shoulders and he met her worried expression, his eyes wide. He breathed heavily from the terror that shook him in the dream.

He blinked a couple of times, then looked down at the book he had fallen asleep on, frowning at the hellhound of the page as if he wasn't reading that very page before.

Grace sat back down on the chair, about to open her mouth to ask him if he was having a nightmare when Sam walked through the door, quickly approaching the both of them, excited to tell them what he found. He was at Bobby's house, telling the man about the Demon that was too interested in Grace for comfort before the older hunter had slammed the book on the table between them, his eyes wide with realisation. When he filled Sam in, the Winchester had rushed back to Grace and Dean.

"Dig up anything good?" he asked his brother, coming to stand by Grace's side.

Dean closed the book and shook his head, not looking up at him. "No, nothing good." He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the remains of the nightmare of being chased and ripped to shreds by the hellhounds.

"Well, Bobby has," Sam announced. "Finally."

Dean looked up at the news, frowning when he could see Grace's questioning stare from the corner of his eyes. "Yeah?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. A way to find Lilith."

"Oh." Dean nodded as if impressed before checking his watch. "With just uh – thirty hours to go." A moment of silence passed before he looked up again. "Hey, why don't we just make a TJ-run, yeah? You know… some senoritas, cervezas, uh, we could… What's Spanish for 'donkey show'?"

Grace snorted, covering her face with her hands. She had no idea what it was that Dean just said but his tone alone meant it was yet another inappropriate statement and she couldn't help but find it hilarious. And when Dean looked at her and grinned she burst out laughing.

Sam looked down at Grace and rolled his eyes, but snickered at Dean's words nevertheless. "So if we do save you… Let's never do that."

"Yeah..." Dean agreed, looking back down at the books. Sam pulled out a chair, sitting down at the table next to his brother. Grace's chuckles faded and she cleared her throat.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said with a sigh. "Look, we're cutting it close, I know. But we're gonna get this done. I don't care what it takes, Dean. You're not going to hell. I'm not gonna let you." Grace shifted in her seat and averted her eyes, feeling as if she was intruding on a private family moment. Dean's eyes flickered to her before he looked at Sam who smiled encouragingly. "I swear. Everything's gonna be okay."

Dean sat up, giving his brother a thankful nod before his expression changed, his eyes widening in horror. He could see his brother's face, distorted and flinging to the sides at a rapid pace, his mouth parted in a silent scream. He blinked, looking at Grace who simply stared back at him curiously. As soon as the hallucination came it was gone, and Sam wore the same questioning look as the ghost beside him.

"Are you alright, Dean?" Grace asked, rising from her seat. She was stopped by Sam's hand on her shoulder. She only gave him a glance, refocusing on Dean. The ghost sat back down with a frown, the rapid beats of Dean's heart almost deafening her.

Dean nodded but addressed Sam, not voicing an answer to Grace's question. "Yeah, we'll be okay."

* * *

Grace collected the last of the books on the table and threw them on the armchair behind her, clapping her hands together. She turned back to the hunters in the room, standing with her feet together, and rocked on her heels excitedly.

Over the table that was freed Bobby stretched a map of the United States. Then he placed an old tracking device over it, and when Grace reached for it he good naturedly slapped her arm away.

"No touching," he said, pointing an index finger at her. Grace held up her arms, glaring at Sam who chuckled. When sure that Grace was going to keep her hands to herself, Bobby turned back to the map, fighting the small smile that was pulling at his lips. "So you need a name, that's the whole kit and caboodle. With the right name, right ritual, there ain't nothing you can't suss out with this."

'This' was a device constructed of three wooden sticks for legs where at the top they met a glass ball. The sphere was surrounded by a flat piece of metal carved with symbols, and there was another similar shard of metal further down the legs, only bigger. Hanging from the ball, between the wooden stumps was a device sharpened to a point at the end, and it swung like a pendulum.

Sam leaned on the table, leaning forward to squint at it as the pendulum swung in all directions over the map. "Like the town Lilith's in?"

Bobby scoffed as if his statement amused him. "Kid, when I'm done, we'll know the street."

Grace beamed up at Bobby proudly, before exchanging a glance with Sam and copying the way he rested on the desk with his hands. They looked over to Dean only to find him staring grimly at the map, his jaw tense and his arms crossed.

Bobby pushed the pendulum and it began to swing with more power as he began the ritual. He started to chant in Latin and Grace strained her ears to hang onto every single word. Before her eyes the pendulum swung over the map in a synchronised pattern before suddenly stopping, as if held in place by an invisible force.

Bobby's words faded and he approached the map, reading out the location that the device pointed to. "New Harmony, Indiana." Dean looked up at him with a relieved sigh. "And we have a winner."

Sam pushed the pendulum away so it swung freely again and sighed. "Alright. Let's go."

Dean stepped forward and stopped his brother before he could get more than a couple of steps away. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what?" He laughed and shook his head, holding up his arms. "Hold on, there, Tex, maybe let's talk about this first?"

Sam took a step back with surprise. "What's the problem?"

Grace nodded in agreement, confused why Dean finally said something after his long silence only to shoot down their plans. "What's up, dean?"

Dean laughed incredulously. "What's the problem? Come on, where do I begin? I mean, first of all, we don't even know if Lilith actually holds my deal. We're going off of Bela's intel? Now when that bitch breathes, the air comes out crooked, okay. Second, even if we could get to Lilith, we have no way to gank her. And third, isn't this the same Lilith that wants your giant head on a pike? Should I continue?"

Grace bit her lip and crossed her arms, considering Dean's words. She had to give it to him – he was right. Even if Lilith holds their deal, they are still going after her with bare fists and that would do jack shit against a demon.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Ain't you just bringing down the room." He just found the demon they were looking for, for weeks and this is the thanks he was getting?

"Yeah, well, it's a gift," Dean shot back.

"I'm sorry, so then what are we supposed to do, Dean?" Sam held his hands up in exasperation, raising an expectant eyebrow.

Dean turned to him and sighed, shaking his head. "Just 'cause I gotta die doesn't mean you have to, okay? Either we go in smart or we don't go in at all."

Sam nodded. "Okay, fine. If that's the case, I have an answer.

Dean surveyed him unsurely. "You do?"

"Yeah, a sure-fire way to confirm that it's Lilith, and a way to get us a 'bona fide' demon-killing ginsu."

From the mention of a demon killing blade Dean immediately shook his head and turned his back to walk away. "Damn it, Sam, no."

Sam rolled his eyes. "We're so past arguing, Dean," he sighed. "I am summoning Ruby."

Grace straightened up, turning to Bobby with a questioning look. "Who's Ruby?" She resisted the urge to glare at Sam when she realised that she asked him that before. Bobby shook his head, and quietly told her that he'll tell her later. Grace looked back at the brothers with a frown.

Dean faced his brother with a roll of his shoulders, failing to make them less stiff than he aimed to with the movement. "The hell you are! We have enough problems as it is."

"Exactly", Sam said, agreeing with and stepping towards him. "And we've got no time and no choice either."

Dean groaned and threw his head back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Come on, man, she is the Miss Universe of lying skanks, okay? She told you that she could save me, huh – lie. She seems to know everything about Lilith but forgot to mention, oh right, that Lilith owns my soul!"

"Okay, fine. She's a liar," Sam agreed with defeat. "She's still got that knife."

"Dean," Bobby called the man's name, only for it to go unheard by all except for Grace who turned to him and shuffled her feet awkwardly. The atmosphere was so tense one could cut it with a knife. Again. She didn't expect them to start arguing so soon again.

Dean scoffed at his brother's words and shook his head. "For all we know, she works for Lilith."

"Then give me another option, Dean. I mean, tell me what else." Sam couldn't have sounded more sarcastic if he tried.

"Sam's right," Bobby spoke up again and this time the brother's heads snapped towards him.

"No, dammit!" Bobby looked startled, surprised at Dean's exclamation. Grace winced, her ears ringing. The three hunters looked at each for a few seconds, Grace resisting the urge to cover her ears when the silence continued and she felt like they would start yelling at each other again. But thankfully when Dean continued his voice was much calmer. "Just no. We're not gonna make the same mistakes all over again," he said, and shock registered on Sam and Bobby's faces, as Grace looked on with confusion in her eyes. "You guys wanna save me, find something else."

Dean walked back to the other desk in the room and sat down, resuming the book he was reading before Bobby barged in with the tracking device. He turned the page but wasn't registering the words in front of him, a contemplative look on his face.

Grace sighed, and throwing her hands in the air in defeat walked over to Dean and pulled up a chair opposite him, reaching the book closest to her and opening it to a random page.

Sam and Bobby observed the two for a few moments before Bobby sighed and grabbed the jacket he discarded on the chair upon entering, throwing it on. Sam turned to him in question. "Where are you going, Bobby?"

"I guess to..." Bobby mimicked the same action Grace did only moments ago and threw his arms out, "find something else."

Sam sighed and leaned against the table, his eyes staring into space. With one last look at Dean and Grace he nodded to himself and silently left the room, his mind made up.


	10. Chapter 10

**X**

Sam rolled his eyes, almost annoyed with himself. Really, he should have expected those words. "And you decided to tell me this just now?"

Ruby pointed to herself with a small smile and took small steps towards the hunter that has summoned her. "Um… demon. 'Manipulative' is kinda in the job description. Fact is, is that you would have never considered. Not until you were-"

"Desperate enough?" Sam finished for her.

They exchanged a look and Ruby shrugged as Sam looked away.

She sighed with something akin to sympathy as she turned on her heel and paced in front of him. "You don't like being different. You hate the way Dean looks at you sometimes, like you're some kind of sideshow freak." She laid down the hard truth and stopped in front of him, tilting her head to the side. "But suck it up because we've got a lot of ground to cover, and we've gotta do it fast. But we can do it." Sam clenched his jaw, looking down at the ground. When he looked back up and still didn't look convinced by her words Ruby groaned in exasperation. "Look. Call me a bitch, hate me all you want, but I have never lied to you, Sam. Not ever. And I'm telling you. You can save your brother and I can show you how."

"So that's you, huh?" Dean finally spoke up from his hiding place, emerging from the shadows behind her. "Our slutty little Yoda."

Grace stood just a couple of steps to his side, remaining invisible just as Dean instructed. They entered the basement a little while before Dean decided to reveal himself, just when Ruby mentioned Hitler's exploding briefcase and something about a true-blue window. Of course Grace didn't know much about the 'special abilities' that the supposedly 'good' demon was rambling on about. Throughout her time spent with the brothers they have barely mentioned it, and that was only recently, since Dean gave her the diary and she bugged them about the yellow-eyed demon.

She shook her head, cursing under her breath, and refocused on the situation at hand, noting to herself to ask Bobby about it later, when the whole 'let's save Dean's ass' mission was over.

"Dean," Ruby greeted him while still facing Sam before turning around. No sign of the softness that she showed Sam was present now when she spoke. "Charming as ever."

Now that Ruby was facing them Grace could finally see the demon that saved Sam and Dean's asses – and more than once apparently. Even though she was glaring daggers through the older Winchester's skull she didn't really look that dangerous, and definitely less feral than the demons Grace saw exorcised and killed by the brothers. She was a pretty, sun kissed blonde in jeans and a grey leather jacket.

Dean smirked and started to slowly walk towards them. "Aw, I knew you'd show up. Because I knew Sam wouldn't listen." His brother looked up at the sound of his name, but quickly looked away when Dean's eyes fell on him. And it was the truth. Dean did know that Sam would go against his wishes and summon Ruby, so he decided that he might as well get something out of his brother's idiotic move and steal the knife from the demon. He even managed to secretly draw the devil's trap on the basement's roof in the small window of time that it took for Sam to gather the ingredients for his summoning spell. And just as he had hoped, the symbol remained undiscovered. "But you're not gonna teach him anything, you understand me?" Dean continued as he stopped in front of them and crossed his arms, surveying her with great distaste. "Over my dead body."

Ruby smirked and shifted on her feet. "Oh. Well, you're right about that."

"What you are going to do is give me that knife," Dean motioned to the obvious bulge in the back of her jeans somewhat covered by her coat that he first saw when he sneaked up behind them. "And then you can just go crawl back into whatever slop you came from and never bother me or my brother again. Are we clear?"

Ruby tilted her head to the side and scoffed, as if his threat came from the lips of a five year old. "Your brother is carrying a bomb inside of him and we'd be stupid not to use it."

"Dean, look, just hold on for one-"

"Sam, don't!" Dean interrupted his brother with a yell turning to him angrily. "Come on man, what, are you blind? Can't you see that this is a trick?"

Ruby protested with an eye roll. "That's not true."

"She wants you to give into this whole demonic psychic whatever, okay? I mean, hell - she probably wants you to become her little anti-christ Super Star."

Ruby stepped towards Dean with anger flashing in her eyes. "I want Lilith dead. That's all."

"Why?" Even though Dean's question seemed to piss off the blonde demon, Grace couldn't help but silently agree, curious as to why a demon was helping the brothers in the first place.

Ruby took a threatening step towards him. "I've told you why!"

"Oh right, yeah," Dean said in a mocking fashion. "Because you were human once and you liked kittens and long walks on the beach."

"You know, I am so sick of proving myself to you," Ruby curled her fists in anger as she took another step towards him, the two of them just a few feet apart. "You wanna save yourself, this is how, you dumb, spineless dick."

Dean stared at her and then shrugged, turning around as if to leave but at the least minute he faced her again, swinging his right hand and punching Ruby in the face, his lips curled back in a snarl. Grace gasped, taking a step back, not having actually expected Dean to punch her.

Sam backed away a bit, also surprised by the hit. Ruby had stumbled back a couple of steps before recovering her balance and looking up at him with unfiltered fury in her eyes. She wiped the blood that was beginning to seep from the cut in her lip and after a short moment of simply glaring at him, she hit him twice, once with her right fist and then the left.

"Ruby, hey!" Sam rushed forward to break up the fight but the blonde simply turned around and hit him in the stomach. Sam doubled over in pain and she kneed him in the face, sending him flying into a wooden beam which shook when he came into contact with it. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and groaned out in pain, sliding to the floor.

Grace hesitated, about to move but stopped herself when she remembered Dean's command not to interfere no matter what. She bit her lip, and moved out of the way as Ruby came at Dean again, her eyes flickering to the devil's trap on the ceiling and then she smiled when she realised the direction that Dean was luring Ruby towards.

The hunter hit Ruby in the face with his left hand, but when he's about to do the same with his right she ducked out of the way and retaliating with an attack of her own kneed him in the stomach. A few more punches were exchanged, Ruby gaining the advantage, before she kicked him in the face, causing him to fall to the floor. Dean groaned and tried to get up but she took a step towards him and throwing her foot up kicked him in the stomach and sent him rolling across the floor to the other side of the room. Before he could get to his feet she stalked over to him and took hold, bringing him up to her eye-level only to head-butt him so he fell back to the floor again.

Grace winced with every hit that was thrown by Ruby, surprised that such brute force came from the body. None of the demons the brothers fought before seemed this strong. The ghost relaxed when Ruby stood over Dean, frowning when he slowly began to rise to his feet with a grin on his face.

"'The hell are you grinning at?" she demanded, breathing heavily.

Dean rose to his feet and laughed. "Missing something?" He reached behind him and pulled out the knife he managed to take from her, holding it in front of his face with a wink.

Ruby's face transforms to that of horror, before she curled her fingers into fists again. "I'll kill you, you son of a bitch."

She lunged towards him but managed to get only a few steps ahead before she was stopped by an invisible wall. She stumbled back, before growling and jumping at Dean but failing again. She looked in question at Dean's smug smile, then slowly, as if with realisation dawning on her, looked up at the roof. The devil's trap glared down at her and she looked back at Dean, cursing under her breath.

Sam blinked, before shaking out of the trance of surprise that he was thrown in. He jumped to his feet and avoiding the devil's trap moved to stand by his brother's side, looking up at the symbol drawn on the roof. "I could have sworn that wasn't there before." He turned to his brother, both thankful and feeling a little betrayed.

Dean surveyed his work before he offered Ruby a smirk. "Like I said..." He concealed the knife, dropping the smile. "I knew you'd come."

He turned his back to her and walked towards the staircase, Grace grinning and skipping after him, having quite enjoyed the show. Ruby followed the hunter with her eyes, furious. "Wait! You're just gonna leave me here?"

Dean stopped, but instead of answering her he addressed his brother. "Let's go, Sam." He almost added the name of the ghost that was already half way up the stair case, but stopped himself at the last second.

Sam nodded and with one last look at Ruby followed his brother. Dean took in a deep breath and blinking hard, led the way out of the basement and up the stairs.

"Oh, oh you – so you're just too stupid to live, is that it?" Ruby screamed after them. "Then fine! You deserve hell! I wish I could be there, Dean. I wish I could smell the flesh sizzle off your bones. I wish I could be there to hear you scream!"

"And I wish you'd shut your pie hole," Dean called to her over his shoulder, not pausing for a moment, "but we don't always get what we want."

"Unless the whole being in hell part," Grace mused as her, now visible, form met the brothers upstairs, startling Sam. "I'm sure that could be arranged." Dean smirked and after his brother had come through the door he swung it shut, muting the demon's enraged screams.

"She'll just have to do without the entertainment," Dean added to Grace's words who nodded in agreement, Sam rolling his eyes at the exchange.

* * *

Dean, Sam and Grace were standing over the table with the Winchester brothers' weapon arsenal laid out on the surface. Dean picked up gun with a white handle that has never failed a shot in his hand. He picked up a clip, and loaded it.

Grace sighed and blew a strand that fell in front of her face. The brothers were preparing their weapons in complete silence and it was unnerving to say the least. She never really realised how many guns and knives they had until it was all laid out before her.

And apart from a knife barely bigger than her palm that Dean gave to her, she was not allowed to use a single one. She couldn't even help the brothers load them, sitting backwards on a chair so her chin was resting on the back, and her arms were around it. In between her fingers she spun the knife around, watching as the brothers prepared for battle.

Grace stilled and sat up, her ears straining when she thought she heard a scratch on the floorboards. She listened intently before rolling her shoulders and turning back to the Winchesters. It must have been nothing. And she was glad, especially since Ruby's angry yells pretty much stopped the moment they shut the door. They heard a few bangs at first, as if things were being thrown around but apart from that the blonde demon was relatively silent.

Sam sighed and put the gun he was holding back on the desk, looking up at his brother. "We're just gonna let Ruby rot down there?"

A nod. "That's the idea."

Sam shuffled his feet awkwardly, taking in a deep breath. "Dean, what if, uh... What if Ruby's right? What if I can take out Lilith?" Dean paused and looked up at his brother with an angry and doubting look. Sam frowned. "Quit looking at me like that."

Dean rolled his eyes. "What, are you gonna give her the Carrie-stare and Lilith goes 'poof'?"

Sam sighed, deflating his shoulders and Grace looked down, tracing the blade of the knife in her hands with a finger. She couldn't help but wonder how many monsters faced the sharp edge of the weapon in her hands.

Sam sighed and tried again. "Look, I don't know exactly what Ruby meant. You know maybe if we just go ask her-"

"Sam, you wanted the knife – I got you the knife," Dean interrupted him, putting down the gun and walking over to another table, just as the first it was cluttered with weapons.

Sam closed his eyes before shaking his head and turning to his brother. "Dean, just listen to me for a second. Last time Lilith snapped her fingers and put thirty demons on our ass, and all we got is one little knife? I mean, like you said, we go in smart or we don't go in at all."

"People and their words," Grace muttered under her breath, closing her eyes and shifting so her forehead rested against the back of the chair. "The meaning behind them is always so… fluid."

Dead heard her and gave her a small glare, before turning to Sam, deciding to ignore the ghost's words. "Well, this ain't smart.

"We got one shot at this, Dean. Just one. So if there's a sure-fire way then maybe we should just talk about it."

"Sam," Dean stalked towards his brother, his feet stomping on the ground with every step. "We are not gonna make the same mistake all over again."

Sam groaned and almost face-palmed. "You said that but what does it even mean?"

"Don't you see a pattern here? Dad's deal, my deal, now this?" Dean threw his arms out, motioning around them. "I mean every time one of us is up the creek the other is begging to sell their soul. That's all this is, man. Ruby's just jerking your chain down the road. You know what it's paved with and you know where it's going."

Grace glanced at Dean at his words, squinting at his back as he faced his brother. Their father's deal?.. Did their father also make a deal with a demon? For what? Sam or Dean never mentioned it and it wasn't in the journal. Grace pouted and looked at the armchair where her bag rested, dismissing the thought for the time being. Perhaps she missed it, after all she gave any of John Winchester's personal entries nothing more than a single glance, feeling like she shouldn't be reading them.

Dean turned around and sat on the chair next to Grace, noticing that she was staring off into space but deciding not to comment. He sniffed and rolled his shoulders, picking up the weapons again. Sam shook his head and walked to stand on the opposite side of the table to the pair.

"Dean," he called his brother's name before pulling up a chair and sitting down, resting his hands on the table and lacing his fingers together. He observed his brother silently for a few moments before continuing. "What do you think is gonna happen?... And if it'll save you…"

Dean stopped his movements and looked down at the floor, shaking his head. "Why even risk it?" He looked up at Sam, who looked away but only for a second.

"Because you're my brother" he said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Because you did the same thing for me."

Dean scoffed. "I know… and look how that turned out to be." Sam frowned and looked away. "All I'm saying is…" His voice broke and he shook his head, clearing his throat. "Sammy, all I'm saying is that you're my weak spot." Sam looked up and Dean smiled as if it confirmed his statement. "You are. And I'm yours."

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. "You don't mean that. We're… We're family."

"I know. And those evil sons of bitches know it too. I mean, what we'll do for each other, you know, how far we'll go? They're using it against us." Dean motioned towards Grace. "And as much as appreciate the expansion of our friend circle, we tend to rub off on people in case you haven't noticed. And it doesn't work out that well when we're not exactly hero material."

Sam followed his gaze and frowned, before looking back up at him. "So what? We just stop looking out for each other?"

"No," Dean shook his head. "We stop being martyrs, man. We stop spreading it for these demons." He picked up Ruby's knife from the table and held it up for him to see, gripping it tightly by the handle. "We take this knife, and we go after Lilith our way. The way Dad taught us to. And if we go down, then, uh... then we go down swinging." Sam stared at him wordlessly. "What do you think?"

Sam looked down at the floor before chuckling, and looking up at him with a small smile. "I think you totally should have been jamming "Eye of the Tiger" right there."

Dean rose from his seat, pouting. "Oh, bite me. I totally rehearsed that speech too."

Grace laughed, the words bringing her out from her trance and she looked up, offering Dean a grin. The hunter rolled his eyes before ruffling her hair, the ghost pulling away from the gesture and sticking her tongue out at him, protesting that she wasn't a kid. Sam smiled too, before looking down and picking up a gun, loading it.

"So, Indiana, huh?" he said, in hopes to start a lighter conversation, redirecting their focus on the task ahead: finding and killing Lilith, thus – hopefully – saving his brother's life.

"Yeah," Dean muttered. "Where Lilith's on shore-leave.

"Yeah, I guess," Sam agreed.

"Tell me something," Dean spoke up, waiting for both his brother and Grace to look up. "The hell's a demon do for fun?"

* * *

Sam and Dean were inside the Impala, rubbing their hands together. Dean cleared his throat and turned the key in the ignition, frowning when the car wouldn't start. He and Sam exchanged a worried glance before a tap sounded on their window, Bobby startling them with his sudden appearance.

He smirked at their surprised faces. "Where do you think you're going?"

Dean turned to him slowly, not sure whether to smile or glare until he saw the distributor cap he held in his hand and his eyebrows pulled together. "That's what I think it is, isn't it?"

Bobby nodded before taking a step back and motioning for them to get out of the car and after a sigh they did, with almost pained looks on their faces.

If they thought Bobby looked annoyed, the brothers almost winced when he took a step to the side to reveal Grace standing behind him, with her arms crossed and taping her foot with a murderous glare.

Just moments earlier Sam and Dean had pushed her inside Bobby's house, their argument for leaving her behind being that this mission was far too dangerous and she would only get in the way. Grace was too busy trying to shout over their voices, protesting against the unexpected betrayal and trying to wriggle out of their grip to remember that she could have easily disappear and reappear back in the Impala when they were on the road. She knew well enough that they were in too much of a rush to salt the inside of the Impala just to keep her out.

When she turned around to yell at them again, Dean threw his arms around her in a tight hug, most likely attempting to choke the life out of her, and when he pulled away he winked, told her to stay safe and listen to Bobby and shut the door in her face.

Grace stood there for a few moments, gaping, genuinely surprised that they had the nerve to dismiss her like that. Then she rolled her eyes and turned around, seeing Bobby pulling on his jacket. In his hand he gripped his car keys, a rosary and a small, palm sized unidentifiable object that looked suspiciously like it belonged in the inside of a car. Or more precisely, the Impala.

The hunter had smiled at her and rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the Winchester brothers. "Never know when to save their breaths, those two. Damn idjits," he said, walking past her and opening the door, turning to Grace over his shoulder. "You coming, kid?"

Grace grinned and nodding frantically, ran after him and into the front porch, pulling her features into the best glare she could muster and stalking towards the Impala.

Dean shut the door to the driver's seat and faced Bobby, matching his look of discontent. "What?" he threw his arms out. We got the knife."

"Yes, I can see that," Bobby pointed it out, as Sam walked around the car and came to stand by his brother's side, his eyes flickering between the two hunters. "And you intend to use it without me. Do I look like a ditchable prom-date to you?"

Sam shook his head. "No, Bobby. Of course not. Neither of you do." Instead of thanking for the acknowledgement, Grace stuck her tongue out at him.

Dean rolled his eyes, practically hearing the seconds tick away. He didn't have the time for this. "This is about me and Sam, okay? This isn't your fight."

Bobby took a step towards him furious by his words. "The hell it isn't!" Dean's eyes widened, taken aback by the older man's words. "Family don't end with blood, boy." He took in a deep breath and a step back, standing tall and proud. "Besides, you need me."

"Bobby," Dean sighed, shutting his eyes but Bobby waved him off.

Instead he ignored his protesting tone and motioning to the ghost behind him he continued as if Dean had never interrupted him. "And the kid isn't staying." Grace nodded, standing her ground, dropping her glare and replacing it with a small smile. "You're playing wounded. Tell me, how many hallucinations have you had so far?"

Confusion registered in both of the Winchesters' faces. Dean was surprised at Bobby's knowledge while Sam tilted his head in question, looking between his brother and Bobby, not sure what hallucinations they were speaking of. He glanced at Grace but she only shrugged her shoulders.

Dean sighed, looking down at his feet. "How'd you know?"

"Because that's what happens when you've got hellhounds on your butt. And because I'm smart," Bobby retorted, handing him the distributor cap which Dean took, still avoiding his gaze. "I'll follow." He began to walk away to his own truck and Dean shook his head, walking over to the hood of the Impala, ready to return the part to its rightful place. "And don't be stopping to pee every ten minutes either," Bobby called to him over his shoulder.

Dean stopped in his tracks, raising and eyebrow before shaking his head. He turned to Grace and growled at the smile on her face, barking at her to shut up. Grace's smile dropped only for a smirk to replace it. "Okay," Dean nodded, "for that, you ride with Bobby!" Grace shrugged and turning on her heel skipped – literally skipped, Dean's ears were red with anger – over to Bobby who was already in his truck and upon seeing Grace unlocked and pushed the passenger's door open with a smile.

Dean sighed in defeat and turned to Sam with a roll of his eyes. His brother could only shrug in response.

Bobby patiently waited for Sam and Dean to sort out the Impala and finally leave the driveway before he started the engine, looking down at Grace who was following the Impala until it disappeared through the gate. "You sure you want to do this, Grace?" He only asked the question for the small part of him that hoped that Grace would stay behind.

The ghost looked up at him in surprise. It was always either 'kid' or 'kiddo' or 'girl' – he never called her by her name. She took in his questioning gaze before looking out through the window and biting her lip. She recalled all the doubts she had when she saw Dean and Sam torture a demon for the first time. But she realised that what was frightened her wasn't how they acted, but their dedication. She knew that this particular trip was dangerous. Lilith was so much stronger than anything she even imagined to face – she just had to listen to the way they said her name, as if Lilith was the Devil himself.

She shook her head, making up her mind before looking up and nodding at him with a smile. "Yes," she said, reaching for her seatbelt and clipping it into place. "Let's go before they try to ditch us again."

Bobby nodded and stepped on the gas, a feeling of pride making his lips pulls up into a smile. But when Grace turned back to look through the window the smile dropped and any pride he felt was replaced by the sinking feeling of dread in his chest.

And it wasn't just because they were chasing after some hot-shot demon.

He shook his head and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, sighing in relief when they pulled into the highway and he could see the boys' Impala in the distance. He will focus on Lilith for now. If not for himself then for the two idjits in front of him.

Stupid Winchesters and their stupid deal-making tendencies. What happened to not trusting demons?


	11. Chapter 11

**XI**

Grace tapped her fingers on the window, yawning. Bobby has been driving for hours, without stop. The hunter was silent, throwing occasional glances at her through the corner of his eye but other than that was focused on the road. Grace sighed and rested her head against the window, squinting into the distance where she could see the Impala ahead of them.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was calming. And she didn't want to interrupt Bobby's thoughts because he seemed to be deep in concentration, muttering under his breath.

She shifted in her seat and brought one of her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knee. They were getting close to Lilith, no more than a few hours away and the nerves chewed at her stomach. Like other demons she was once human, but Lilith was the first demon to ever be created. Grace shivered. It wasn't like she doubted Sam, Dean and Bobby's skills – no, she saw them defeat more demons than she could remember, but she still couldn't help but think that this will not be an easy task.

The ghost saw the lights before she heard the sirens and she looked up just in time to see a police car pull onto the road, hurrying towards the Impala. "Oh great," she muttered, sitting up, thinking it rather typical for them to be stopped when they're in a hurry.

"Balls," Bobby cursed, slowing his truck down so it would take longer to catch up to the Winchesters. "I knew that the busted tail-light will be a nuisance."

Grace glanced at him before refocusing back on the road, watching with wary eyes as the Impala pulled over, the police car stopping behind it. The police officer exited his vehicle, walking up to Dean and Sam with a flashlight in his hand.

He seemed to take the license that Dean extended to him and Grace held her breath. A few more moments passed when Dean suddenly opened his door, hitting the police office in the stomach. He didn't waste time in rushing out of the car and punching him three times in the face.

"What the hell?" Bobby exclaimed, startling Grace who was watching the event before them with wide eyes. The hunter harshly stepped on the gas pedal and caught up with the Winchesters within seconds, stopping the truck behind the police car with a jerk.

Grace unclipped her seat belt and jumped out of the car just in time to see Dean thrust the knife into the jaw of the police officer, the man flashing with light. He pulled the knife out and the dead officer slumped to the ground and Dean stood over him, panting from the rush of the fight, his knuckles white from the force he gripped the knife with.

Grace reached them and looked down at the body and then back up at Dean, raising an eyebrow. Bobby was by her side in an instant, staring at Dean with shock and surprise. "What the hell happened?"

Sam spoke up for his brother, though he didn't seem any less surprised than them. "Dean just killed a demon. How'd you know?"

Dean didn't answer straight away, instead looking around him as if he was expecting to be attacked. "I just knew," he turned to Sam, for a moment looking worried, before his eyes flickered back to the dead office. "I could see its face, its real face under that one."

Grace, still surprised, looked down at the supposed demon as Bobby looked up at Dean at those words and his confusion was replaced with understanding.

* * *

Grace puffed, groaning as she threw a heavy branch over the car, wincing when it squeaked. Bobby threw her a look, as him and the Winchesters put branches over the police car, trying to hide it from view. There weren't that many branches on the ground and Grace had to turn to breaking parts of trees and bushes that had enough leaves to act as a camouflage.

They worked in silence as quickly as they could, and Sam blurted out the question that they were all thinking. "So, what, now you're seeing demons?"

Dean shrugged but the movement was tense. Grace jumped up and grabbed hold of a tree branch, twisting it until it broke. She passed it over to him and he took it from her, putting it on top of the car where she couldn't reach. "I've seen all kinds of things lately but… nothing like this."

"Actually it's not that crazy," Bobby remarked casually.

Dean frowned at his lack of concern. "How is it not that crazy?"

"Well you've got," Bobby checked his watch, "just over five hours to go? You're piercing the veil, Dean. You're glimpsing the B side."

Dean pulled a face. "A little less new age-y, please."

Bobby shrugged. "You're almost hell's bitch, so, you can hell's other bitches."

Dean turned to him in surprise. Then he rolled his eyes and smiled mockingly. "Thank you."

"Well, actually it could come in pretty handy," Sam spoke up, looking like he was trying to figure something out."

"Oh, well, I'm glad my doomed soul is good for something."

"Damn right it is," Bobby agreed, annoyed at Dean's sarcasm. "Lilith's probably got demons stashed all over town. We can't let them sound the alarm. If she knows we're here we'll be dead before we've started."

"Well, this is a terrific plan. I'm excited to be a part of it," Dean gave them a wide grin and dropped it after second, glaring at the other hunters. "Now can we go, please?" He turned his back to them, beginning to walk way towards the car and Sam and Bobby followed. Grace gave the car one last look over before shrugging, deciding they hid it as well as they could manage.

* * *

Grace sat on the window sill, squinting at the windows of the house opposite. They have reached the exact street where Lilith was only a few hours after the demon incident and just their luck, there was a vacant house for sale in the perfect spot.

Bobby, Sam and Dean kept the house completely dark, settling in as quietly as they could while they told Grace to check out if The Fremont house was the right place. The ghost turned herself invisible and after peaking through the windows, returned to the hunters with a frown. She didn't tell them that the moment she set her eyes on the little girl, the child turned to look through the window with a smile, as if admiring the night's sky. Grace's breath hitched in her throat and she felt as if she was being set on fire so satisfied with the glimpse she returned to the empty house.

Sam was looking through the binoculars next to Bobby, watching as Mrs Fremont served a plate of cake to a little girl at the head of the dinner table and Mr Fremont stood up from his chair and walked out of view. "I think it's the girl," Grace said and Bobby looked at her over Dean's back. "She's had blood on her dress and her parents basically reek of fear."

"You're right," Dean nodded closest to Grace, his face pressed against the glass. "It is the little girl. Her face is awful."

Grace turned to him at the statement, seeing him shiver as if in disgust. She turned back to the girl with a shrug, not really seeing anything wrong with the child apart from her psychotic smile. She looked much creepier with the blood on her dress, but it appeared like she had changed into a clean one while the hunters were setting up.

Sam lowered the binoculars. "Alright then, let's go. We're wasting time."

He walked past Bobby but didn't get past Dean as he grabbed a hold of him, stopping him in his way towards the door. "Wait!"

"For what?" Sam raised an eyebrow and motioned towards the window, through which they could clearly see the child's grandfather on the other head of the table, deadly still with his head in his plate. "For it to kill the rest of them?"

"Yeah, and us too if we're not careful," Dean snapped, sighing and motioning towards the window. Sam picked up the binoculars again. "Look, see the real go-getter mailman on the clock at nine PM? And Mr Rogers over there?"

Bobby squinted, the only one only being able to see small figures through the darkness. "Demons?"

Dean nodded. "Yes."

Sam sighed, putting down the binoculars after he observed the Fremonts' neighbour calmly sitting in an armchair, reading and smoking a pipe. "Ok, fine. We ninja pass those guys, sneak in."

"Then what? Give a 'Columbian necktie' to a ten year old girl? Come on!"

"Look, Dean, I know it's awful-"

Dean scoffed. "You think?"

"This isn't just about saving you, Dean," Sam continued as if Dean had never interrupted. "This is about saving everybody."

Bobby nodded, agreeing. "She gotta be stopped, son."

Dean turned to Bobby, then to the window, chewing on his lip. "Oh, damn it. Fine," he groaned out, looking away from the Fremont house. "Just let me think of a plan, alright?" Without waiting for a response he walked out of the room into one of the bedrooms.

Grace glanced at Bobby before following after Dean.

When she entered the room Dean turned to face her as if surprised and scratched the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. "I guess it'd be futile to try and convince you to stay behind." Grace nodded. "Well, don't say I didn't try."

Grace approached him as he rubbed his face and collapsed onto a bed, resting his head in his hands. "I'll be okay," she said with a smile. "You're the one who needs to be careful."

Dean sighed and nodded. "I know, Casper."

Grace rolled her eyes at the nickname but didn't voice her annoyance, simply crossing her arms and sitting down next to him. She sat with her legs apart and her arms resting on her things, her fingers linked together.

Dean took in a deep breath and glanced at the ghost beside him. "I don't want to die," he admitted, biting his lip as if the statement was embarrassing.

Grace looked at him in surprise but decided not to poke further knowing that admitting it in itself was an action Dean avoided doing at all cost. The girl gave him a small smile; something that she hoped looked reassuring. "I know," she nodded. "And you won't. I'll protect you as much as I can."

Dean looked away and frowned. "Promise me something kid: if it gets too hot you're gonna leave, understand?"

The ghost shook her head so violently that Dean felt the movement on the bed. He turned to her with a glare, gritting his jaw but she simply returned the look. "No."

"This is dangerous," Dean growled, lowering his voice. "I don't think Bobby can handle losing you, he feels responsible for you. And…" He looked down at the floor, swallowing before continuing. "And I don't want to admit this but you've been of help to us." He looked up and gave her a grin. "There might still be a hunter in there."

He poked her side and Grace couldn't help but chuckle, though the amusement didn't last long. She looked down at her hands and sighed. "I can't let you go to hell, Dean. You don't deserve it and it's not fair-"

"Speaking of hell," Dean interrupted, completely changing the subject. "Why are you not shifting?"

Grace looked up with confusion and slight annoyance at him waving away her words of concern. "What?"

"Well, I've been seeing Sam and Bobby all ghoul-like. Just been wondering why you're normal."

Grace smirked. "Maybe it means I'm no hell's bitch?"

Dean barked a laugh at the reference to Bobby's earlier words. He nodded with a grin. "That would make sense." Somehow the words seemed heavier than they sounded and he wondered whether Grace's stability in his eyes could be linked to her being different from other spirits.

His smile dropped when he looked out through the window and Grace surveyed him carefully. She opened her mouth but the changed her mind and closed it again, shaking her head. No, Dean would hit her if she asked him that. Instead she pulled her lips in a tight smile and patted his shoulder.

"So, Sunshine, what's the plan?"

* * *

**A/N: Happy New Year, people! I think I might need to change the image of this fic, but first I need to find one that doesn't get distorted and in which our angel doesn't pull a funny face.**


	12. Chapter 12

**XII**

The mailman was ruffling in the back of his truck, flipping through the mail with an expressionless stare. Hearing the sound of a can rattling as it bounced along the street he looked up, his eyes widening when he saw Dean. The hunter froze, like a deer caught in headlights.

Slowly, the mailman's eyes turned black as Dean wavered on his feet and gave the demon a small wave of his hand before bolting back the way he came. The demon dropped the letters in the truck and took off after him. Dean rounded the corner of the house and the demon followed but when he turned, expecting to have caught the hunter in a dead end, he ran straight into Sam and the knife he held in his hand. The demon struggled in his grip and Grace appeared beside him, putting a hand over the Demon's mouth and successfully holding him still.

Dean joined their side, catching his breath, looking around to make sure that the demon's death doesn't alert the rest of the demons. Sam pulled out the knife and the demon flashed with light and when he dimmed Grace dropped him to the ground.

Grace wiped her hand on her coat as if disgusted and Sam bent over the dead body to retrieve Ruby's knife. Sam and Dean ran off towards the direction of Mr Roger's house as the demon possessed neighbour walked out into the front porch with a yawn. Grace dragged the dead body to lie under a bush before tiptoeing towards the neighbour's house after the brothers.

She rounded the fence to the back yard just as Sam pulled the knife out of Mr Rogers's stomach, who was lying dead on the grass. He wiped it off on the man's own jeans as Dean grabbed him by the feet and dragged him out of sight, Sam and Grace looking around for any other demons, making sure that the coast was clear. Then Dean ran past them towards the house across the street and they followed after him.

Three dead demons later and the trio were silently running towards the Fremont house through the back yards, finding it that killing people out of sight reduced their chances of getting caught. When suddenly Grace ran into a human sized wall.

That very wall cursed and pushed Grace out of the way and in a mass of blonde and leather, it shoved Dean into a fence, holding him there with a snarl.

"I'd like my knife back, please," Ruby growled, her fingers curled around the collar of his shirt and pressing until he winced. "Or your neck snaps like a chicken bone."

"Hey!" Grace called out at her back, getting up to her feet from where she was thrown to the ground and taking a step towards the demon. "Let go of him!"

Sam got there first however, catching Ruby off-guard and holding up her knife to her throat. "He doesn't have it," he said. "Take it easy."

Ruby weighed her options and with a roll of her eyes backed away from Dean, releasing him from the fence. Sam and Grace joined Dean by his side as he turned around and Ruby took a step back, glaring at the trio. Grace faltered, for a moment considering turning invisible but with a frown she realised that Ruby has definitely already seen her.

The blonde demon smirked and crossed her arms when she set her eyes on Grace and the ghost took a step backwards, her back pressing against the fence. "So, you guys got a pet ghost tagging along with you," she said, her head tilting to the side, and refocused back on Dean with amusement dancing in her eyes. "I must be rubbing off on you."

"Shut up," Dean barked and her smile dropped. "How the hell did you get out?"

She took a step towards them, her hips swinging. "What you don't know about me could fill a book."

Dean opened his mouth before clamping it shut, suddenly recoiling from her, bumping his shoulder against Grace's. He moved his head back before tilting it to the side with wide eyes. "Whoa."

Ruby raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Dean sniffed and looked away from her. He gave her a few more glances before shivering in disgust. "Nothing. I just – I couldn't see you before, but you're one ugly broad."

Ruby rolled her eyes, not even bothering to reply to the insult. "Sam, give me the knife before you hurt yourself."

Sam hid it behind his back. "You'll get it when this is over."

"It's already over," Ruby growled, taking a threatening step towards the younger brother. "I gave you a way to save Dean, you shot me down. Now it's too late. He's dead. And I'm not gonna let you die too."

Grace cleared her throat and motioned towards Dean, pointing out that clearly the hunter was still alive and standing, huffing when she was ignored. She rolled her shoulders and turned to look around them, to make sure that the little exchange didn't summon unwanted attention.

"Try and stop me, and I'll kill you." Sam's glare was murderous. After a second he added, "bitch."

"Hit me with your best shot, baby," Ruby took another step towards them with a challenging smirk.

"Uh, guys?" Grace called, repeating herself when she was ignored. "Dean, we have company!" she whisper yelled, hitting him in the side with her elbow.

Dean turned to her with a glare, ready to tell her off when his eyes widened, noticing to what she was pointing at furiously. "Guys," he called to Sam and Ruby who were ready to tear each other's heads off. "Hey, have your little catfight later," he barked, turning towards them when they ignored him.

"What?" Ruby snapped, her shoulders dropping when she saw what the commotion was about. Two people, a father and a son stood outside the front porch of a house, standing deadly still as they stared at them from across the street. On the next house's porch, another man stood, dressed in a suit and a briefcase in his hand. All of their eyes turned pitch black.

"Oh crap," Sam muttered taking a step back, noticing two other men standing in the middle of the road.

"So much for the element of surprise," Dean mused before they all took of running, past the gate and towards the Fremonts' home along the people's front gardens. "Grace," he called to the ghost over his shoulder who was just a few steps behind him, next to Ruby. "Claude Rains-mode, now!"

Grace opened her mouth to protest but Ruby pushed her to the ground for the second time that night, this time out of an attack's path, punching a demon in the face. Sam whirled around and burried his knife into the demon's neck and it flickered before falling to the ground. Grace rolled on the ground before stopping and disappearing in a grey cloud.

They resumed their race, fighting off the demons that got too close for comfort, Ruby not having missed Grace's exit scene. "What the hell kind of ghost is she?"

"I'll let you know when I find out," Dean yelled back, swerving out of the way of another demon. Ruby aimed a kick at his gut and the man double over, Sam throwing the knife at his face. The demon convulsed and fell backwards with a groan.

Sam reached for the knife only for it to come out on its own accord and fling itself at his head. He ducked and the knife embedded itself in a woman's chest, her black eyes turning back to normal as she collapsed to the ground. Ruby reached for the knife but Sam beat her to it and as he ran off she followed with a growl.

Sam soon overtook Dean and reached the Fremont house first, falling to his knees in front of the door to pick the lock. Ruby and Dean ran up behind him and once they stood in front of the door they turned to look towards the lawn as even more demons advanced on them. "What the hell is taking Bobby?" Dean called out, realising that the older hunter was taking far too long. "And can you hurry up with that door, Sam?"

"I'm trying!" Sam huffed out, struggling with the lock. "Why can't Grace open it?"

"Your friend's a little busy," Ruby pointed towards the swarm of demons. A few of them fell to the ground, as if having ran into a barricade. They rose to their feet with confusion only to be knocked down again. Then a few were punched, and kicked and groaning in pain, looking around and hissing, unable to see their opponent.

"Shit," Dean cursed as one demon reached the Fremonts' lawn. He curled his hands into fists, ready for a fight, when suddenly the grass sprinklers turned off and the demon fell to her knees, screaming as the water burned her.

When another demon reached the lawn he was caught in the water too and he screamed, flailing, as he attempted to get back on the road but failed and fell to the ground, convulsing as if experiencing a seizure before lying still. Dean smiled, realising they were surrounded by a barricade of holy water that the demons couldn't pass. Sam yelled out in victory when he finally managed to get the door unlocked and snuck inside, holding it open for Ruby. Dean gave the burning demons one last look over, allowing himself to laugh at them before following the others in.

Once inside the house Sam and Ruby stood over the body of the Fremonts' grandmother, Sam frowning and Ruby looking nothing more or less than indifferent. Suddenly there was a quiet thud against the door and something tripped over the dead body and banged against the wall.

"What the hell?" Sam muttered, surprised, only to roll his eyes when Grace flickered into vision and stood up, patting herself down with an embarrassed smile.

Ruby snorted, crossing her arms. "Smooth, kid."

Dean turned towards them at the sound of Grace's clumsiness, his smile dropping the moment he saw the dead body in front of them. "You think Lilith knows we're here?"

"Probably," Ruby replied, shooting a pointed look at Grace who glared and mimicked her when the demon looked away. Sam rolled his eyes before they all started to look around the hallway, being as light on their feet as they could.

Sam entered the living room first, the demon killing knife held up in front of him, as natural in his hand as if it was a firearm. He was closely followed by Dean and Ruby and lastly by Grace who walked with her eyes on her feet, her ears flushed.

Dean's stiffened, hearing a creak behind him. He quickly turned around as Mr Fremont jumped at him from his hiding place in the cabinet and the hunter gripped his shoulders, placing a hand over his mouth. He turned them both around, shushing him to be quiet.

"It's okay," Grace said quietly, her palms up to show that she didn't mean any harm, hoping that she looked human enough to his eyes. She figured she did because when Mr Fremont turned to her he didn't throw a fit.

"We're here to help, okay?" Dean whispered and the man's eyes flickered back to the hunter holding him. "I'm gonna move my hand and were going to talk nice and quiet, okay?"

The man nodded once and Dean removed his hand, his captive taking in a deep breath and a step back, surveying Dean's companions.

"Sir, where's your daughter?" Sam was the one to speak up.

Mr Fremont shook his head with desperation and sorrow in his eyes. "It's not… It's not her anymore." When Sam asked where the man swallowed and looked up at the ceiling. "Upstairs. In her bedroom."

Dean sighed and took the man by his shoulders, this time more gently. "Okay, listen to me. I want you to go downstairs to the basement. Put a line of salt at the door behind you. Do you understand me?"

The man shook his head. "Not without my wife."

"Yes, without your wife."

"No!"

Dean rolled his eyes and with a single hit knocked the man out, not having the time to argue about it. Grace gawped while Ruby rolled her eyes. Dean picked the man up and slung him over his shoulder, glancing at others over his shoulder and telling them to go upstairs while he took Mr Fremont down to the basement.

Sam nodded and led the way up the stairs with the knife in front of him, all of their backs against the wall, as stealthily as possible. When they finally reached the second storey, they looked around, noticing that the door at the end of the hallway was slightly ajar, the light on.

Ruby walked to the door on their right and shared a look with Sam before he nodded and she silently snuck in, closing the door behind her.

Grace grabbed his shoulder, stopping him as he was about to continue down the corridor, whispering furiously into his ear. "What the hell? If we're facing off Lilith I'd rather even the odds!"

But Sam didn't answer her, simply giving her a glance over his shoulder and putting a finger to his lips. He nodded to the door on their left.

Grace gave him an unimpressed stare. "Really?" Sam returned the look. With a sigh, Grace flickered out of vision and left Sam's side, going through the door into the room he had pointed out. The bedroom looked ordinarily enough, with a twin bed and light blue walls that looked grey in the dark. After she made sure that there were no monsters under the bed or in the closet, she went after Sam, rolling her eyes when she found him still at the end of the hall.

"Slowpoke," she hissed, but remained invisible and the insult fell on deaf ears.

Sam put his ear as close to the door as possible without leaning on it, before he pulled away and nodded as if satisfied. Adjusting the grip on Ruby's knife he slowly pushed the door open, slipping inside the moment there was a gap big enough for him to squeeze through. Grace simply walked through the door and came to a stop beside him.

Immediately she knew that this was the little girl's bedroom, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the soft toys lying around and the stereotypical theme of pink. The bed in front of them had light pink drapes, see through enough for the ghost to make out two shapes lying on the bed, peacefully enough to appear asleep. Grace spied the bloodied dress discarded messily by the small vanity table.

Sam slowly, step by step, made his way around it, keeping his eyes glued to his target. Grace followed no more than a foot behind. Sam stopped by the opening in the drapes and moved the knife in his hand so he could strike Lilith in one swift blow from above, and with his other hand he slowly moved the thin sheets. He revealed Mrs Fremont with her daughter, the woman's eyes staring up at Sam with fear as the child nuzzled into her mother's shoulder, sound asleep.

"Do it," Mrs Fremont whispered, her eyes flickering between her daughter and the knife in Sam's hand.

Sam raised his hand and the girl stirred.

"Do it!"

Sam gritted his jaw, trying to ready himself to stab a child.

"Do it!"

Lilith moved, her eyebrows pulling together.

Mrs Fremont looked down, fear rising, and her breaths became more laboured as she stared at her daughter in horror.

"Do it," she pleaded Sam as Lilith started to sit up, eyes barely open. "Do it. Hurry!"

The child finally opened her eyes and screamed when she saw Sam over her. Grace stumbled back in surprise, because the child screamed not in betrayal and anger but in pure fear – certainly not like a demon.

Sam lunged for her, his hand stopped by Dean at the last minute who appeared by his side and grabbed a hold of his arm.

"It's not her!" He explained when Sam threw him a mortified glare. The girl was breathing in short, sharp gasps, tears beginning to form in her eyes. Grace looked away from her and at Ruby who's head came into view over Dean's shoulder, most likely having followed him into the room. "It's not in the girl anymore."

"Huh," Grace muttered under her breath. "That makes sense." Then she sighed and shook her head. "No wait, it doesn't. If it's not the girl then where's Lilith?"

"Mommy," the girl choked a sob, throwing her arms around her mother and burying her face in her sweater.

Mrs Fremont didn't the protest, the mother being able to sense that this was her own child and not the demon that has possessed her. "It's okay," she sighed in relief as she cradled the girl to her chest, rocking them slowly as she herself cried silently. "Mommy's here, honey. It's okay."

Grace jumped when the child wailed and looked up at Dean as the hunter shared a look of pure confusion with his brother.

Where the hell was Lilith?

* * *

**A/N: Claude Rains. Ha… Yeah, I don't think Grace can live up to the name.**


	13. Chapter 13

**XIII**

The hunters and the Fremont family hurried down the stairs, the little girl holding onto her mother's hand and clumsily wiping her tears. Dean rushed in front of them and opened one of the doors next to the kitchen, revealing a staircase into the basement. "Alright," he motioned for Mrs Fremont to go through. "No matter what you hear, you, your husband and your daughter stay in the basement."

The woman nodded and went through the door with her daughter in tow, Dean shutting the door behind them.

Sam, Ruby and Grace – the latter refusing to make herself visible now that Lilith had the element of surprise – walked past him.

Ruby was on the lead, her head held high. "Well, I hate to be a told you so," she drawled, her face matching her words.

"Alright Ruby, where is she," Sam called after.

"I don't know." The demon shot back as they entered the living room, Grace looking around warily before turning over her shoulder in search for Dean.

Sam frowned. "Could she get past the sprinklers?"

"Not her pay grade – she ain't sweating the holy water."

Sam spun around in a circle before running a hand over his face and sighing in defeat. "Okay, you win. What do I have to do?"

Ruby turned to him in question. "What do you mean?"

"To save Dean," Sam clarified with a glare, not noticing that Dean has now entered the room. Grace gave the older Winchester brother a smile but he ignored it, stalking straight towards Sam. "What do you need me to do?"

Dean took hold of his brother, trying to turn him around to face him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Just shut up for a second," Sam breathed out, pulling out of Dean's grip and turning to the demon. "Ruby!"

The blonde shook her head, scoffing. "You had your chance. You can't just flip a switch," she said. "We needed time."

"Time?" Grace frowned, standing by Dean's side. "Time for what?"

"Well, there's gotta be something," Sam didn't accept her answer. "There's gotta be some way. Whatever it is, I'll do it."

Ruby gave him a pitying look, before slowly shaking her head.

Dean tried to grab hold of his brother again but Sam wrestled out of his grip again, turning in fury to face him. "Don't, Dean! I'm not gonna let you go to hell!"

"Yes, you are!" For a silent moment, the brothers simply panted and stared at each other. Dean took in a deep breath and continued calmer. "Yes, you are. I'm sorry. I mean this is all my fault, I know that. But what you're doing, it's not going to save me. It's only gonna kill you."

"What?!" Grace was fuming, her jaw dropped and her hands clenched into fists. With a sharp intake of breath she was yelling, not caring that nobody in the room could hear her. "What the hell happened to not wanting to go to hell, Dean?" she shouted at his back. "What happened to not wanting to die, you idiot?" She growled and looked away, running a hand through her hair. "Ugh! I really don't want to look at you right now!..." Her voice trailed off when her eyes caught sight of an old grandfather clock and widened in realisation. "Oh… Well, shit."

Sam stared at his brother, simply breathing, before looking away, tears building in his eyes. "Then, what am I supposed to do?"

Dean gave him a small, proud smile. "Keep fighting, take care of my wheels, Sam. Remember what Dad taught you." Dan nodded, blinking to keep the tears at bay. "And remember what I taught you."

Dean's eyes watered and he looked towards the same grandfather clock that Grace was looking at as it made a few more ticks before striking midnight. Dean turned to Sam, the man's eyes glaring at the clock as if he could set it on fire with his stare, tears beginning to run down his cheeks. Hesitantly, he turned back to Dean, swallowing the lump in his throat while his brother gave him another small smile and took in a deep breath to keep himself calm.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Ruby said, her eyes sincere. "I wouldn't wish this upon my worst enemy."

The first howl shattered the silence and Dean's calmness shattered and he turned to face the source of the hellhounds' barks. Sam followed his eyes, straightening up when he realised that something was wrong.

"Hellhound," Dean suddenly spoke up, his eyes focused on a spot on the carpet in the corner of the large room. When Sam asked where, he pointed to it. "There."

Grace turned to where he was pointing and her eyes widened, her breath stuck in her throat.

It didn't look like the illustrations in Bobby's books. And when Grace chanced a look at Ruby's face and saw the demon's expression fall, she knew that she was seeing an entirely different being than she was. Grace turned back to the hound and took a step back, for what she saw was terrifying enough as its growls pierced her ears.

To Grace it didn't look bigger than a dog the size of a grown wolf. But even its form was not solid, but fluid, nothing of more substance than a shadow with two red glowing eyes. Its fur – if it even was fur – moved around it like flames, as if an electric current was running through it. It bared its teeth and growled, stepping towards them.

Dean gulped and bolted out of the room, followed closely by others as the hellhounds bit at the air behind their heels. Once in the next room they shut the door in the hellhound's face, holding it in place with a grunt when something heavy rammed against the wood.

Grace heaved, a hand to her chest as she stumbled back into a desk, knocking over a few books. Ruby's eyes flickered to her but looked at the fallen objects and before Grace could raise a questioning eyebrow whether the demon could see her, Ruby's attention was directed towards the door when the hellhound pounded against it, howling the entire time.

During the struggle Dean was busying himself with a bag of goofer dust, pouring it into a shaky, thick line. The moment he connected the two ends of the doorframe the pounding stopped and the trio released the breaths they were holding before Dean jumped and ran towards the window, pouring the dust on the sill.

Ruby turned to Sam, determination in her voice. "Give me the knife, maybe I can fight it off."

Sam met her eyes, confused. "What?"

"Come on! That dust won't last forever."

At the sound of their voices, Dean turned around to face them just as Sam took out the knife, intent on handing it to Ruby. "Wait!" he exclaimed, throwing his hand out and dropping the bag of the goofer dust were it spilled on the ground in a small pile.

Ruby threw him a look of disbelief. "You wanna die?"

"Sam, that's not Ruby," Dean said, his eyes wide. "It's not Ruby!"

Sam frowned and turned back to Ruby only to be flung into the air and pinned to the wall, with no more than a wave of the demon's hand. The hard impact made him drop the knife and he groaned, screwing his eyes shut before opening them again and setting Ruby with a glare. She didn't notice, her eyes on Dean. Without touching him she punched him in the gut before flinging him on top of the table, pinning him down. Dean had went straight through Grace who gasped and realising what was happening ran around the table to grip Dean's arm and tug as hard as she could to no avail. Dean grunted, raising his head so he could look at the demon.

"How long you been in her?" he gritted out with his teeth clenched in pain. He felt the tug on his arm, but he only gave it a fleeting glance, not seeing anyone there.

Ruby's facial expression transformed and she breathed, her features becoming child-like. "Not long," she grinned, scanning her own body as she spoke with the air of a little girl, and Grace's eyes widened when she realised that it was no longer Ruby. It was Lilith. "But I like it. It's all grown up and pretty."

She slowly raised her head and tilted it, her eyes turning white as she smiled at Dean.

Sam clenched his jaw. "And where's Ruby?"

Lilith's eyes turned back to normal. "She was a very bad girl," she sang, "so I sent her far, far away." With every tilt of her head they could hear her neck crack.

Dean scoffed, with a shake of his head. "You know, I should have seen it before, but you all look alike to me."

"You bitch," Grace snarled, abandoning Dean's hand and lunging for the demon. But she took no more than three steps before she found herself stuck, rooted to the ground. Grace's eyes widened and she cursed, struggling in her bonds, her stomach twisting with horror when she realised she couldn't move.

Lilith didn't move to make a sign that Grace's condition was her doing, her head snapping to Sam and she began to slowly walk towards him. "Hello, Sam. I've wanted to meet you for a very long time."

She grabbed hold of his chin between her fingers and forced him to face her, planting a kiss on his lips and the spot sizzled were they met. She pulled away after a moment, contemplative. "Your lips are soft."

Sam winced, trying to free his head. "Right, so you have me. Let my brother go."

Lilith laughed, taking a step back and glancing at Dean who was wriggling on the table, still attempting to get free. "Silly goose" she smiled a smile that sent shivers down Grace's back. "You wanna bargain, you have to have something that I want." She let the sink in before she added, "you don't."

"So, is this your big plan, huh," Dean barked a laugh. "Drag me to hell. Kill Sam. And then what? Become queen bitch?"

Instead of being angry at the insult Lilith offered him a sinister smile. "I don't have to answer to puppy chow." Dean groaned as if he was hit again and trashed around, trying to break her restraint. Lilith left Sam and moved towards the door, the other three occupants of the room following her with their eyes. She took a hold of the door handle and gave Dean a smug look. "Sic e'm, boy!"

Dean and Sam exchanged a look and Grace jumped against the hold for one last time as Lilith opened the door and the goofer dust blew away, a low growl emitting from the hound. Grace's eyes widened as she saw the same shadow, moving almost gracefully as it entered the room. The hellhound barked, and then lunged past Grace and onto Dean, locking its jaw around his leg and pulling him down as he screamed. It began to rip him to shreds as Sam exclaimed for it to stop, helplessly watching the horrifying event with his eyes, unable to do anything about it.

The hellhound slashed at Dean's right leg, making deep, harsh cuts in the flesh. Then with another howl it moved onto his chest as he screamed in pain and turned over onto his stomach. Lilith watched with a smile as the hellhound simply moved on to the hunter's back and shoulders.

Grace yelled out Dean's name, yelping when she collapsed face first onto the ground, suddenly able to move again. She looked up at Lilith with a murderous expression before lunging at her only to find herself frozen on the spot again.

Lilith was holding up a finger, moving it from left to right, as if she was a mother telling a child off. "I can see you, little girl," she smirked and Grace paled. Dean was busy being in an unbearable amounts of pain to pay the new development any attention while Sam's eyes looked at the direction Lilith was addressing, frowning and refocusing on trying to escape when he didn't see anything. Lilith paid him no mind, taking a step towards Grace. "I've heard about you, and I would really love to have a chat under more pleasant circumstances." Lilith looked down at Dean and laughed, looking up to see Grace clenching her jaw. Her smile fell. "But right now, you're in my way."

Lilith held up her palm in Grace's line of sight and muttered something under her breath, too low for anyone else to hear.

All of a sudden Grace was enveloped in a white light and when her vision returned she was in the dark. She staggered backwards, realising she was outside from the starry sky above her, but unable to recognise the wooded area around her. She turned around in circles but only succeeded to make her head spin. Taking in a deep breath and regaining her balance she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against her temples, trying to make herself teleport to where Dean and Sam, or even Bobby was.

She didn't succeed however, as a sharp pain burst in her chest and she stumbled back, ramming into a tree, coughing violently. She doubled over in pain, retching as she felt warm, coppery tasting liquid drip down her chin and onto the dry leaves below her.

* * *

Grace stumble over her feet, managing to catch her balance in the next few steps and continuing to drag her feet in a straight line along the highway. A few moments after her fit she had somewhat sobered, but wasn't any less confused about where she was or how she got there. Her vision was blurry and her throat still hurt and all she could piece together was that Lilith must have banished her.

Unable to zap herself to where she wanted to be, since it caused her unbearable pain, Grace had no other options than to get on the road and hope that she was walking in the right direction.

A car passed her and honked loudly at the ghostly girl walking in the middle of the two lanes. She ignored it. Another car honked, approaching from behind and Grace groaned, clasping her hands over her ears. "Shut up!"

She slowed to a stop, breathing heavily. The horizon was becoming brighter but Grace couldn't make out whether it truly was the sunrise or her eyes were playing tricks on her. She was exhausted, wanting nothing else but to pass out but couldn't allow herself to fall asleep. That bitch's spell did a trick on her, she'll give her that. Grace's eyes fluttered closed and she tripped, but just as she was about to fall forwards onto the road, she was caught mid-fall.

Somehow the physical connected gave her a burst of strength and she managed to open her eyes to see Bobby look down at her worriedly. He began to fuss over her, his eyes scanning the dried blood around her face but she waved him off with a grateful smile, looking over his shoulder to see the Impala pull up.

"Sam, Dean!" She grinned and waved as much as she could manage before dropping her arms with a pained wince. But out of the driver's seat came Sam, climbing out with an unreadable expression on his face.

She wriggled out of Bobby's grip, the hunter warily releasing his hold, and wobbled towards Sam, not picking up on his slow and rigid movements. Tears spilled from her eyes and met the blood on her chin, mostly out of happiness. She reached him and pulled him into a hug, as high as she could reach with her face buried in his chest and her arms around his waist.

"I'm so glad you're alright, she whispered, stomping down the doubt she felt earlier about never seeing any of the brothers again. She pulled away and wiped her nose with her sleeve, looking around him at the Impala with a small smile. "Where's Dean?" Not receiving an answer she frowned, turning back to Sam and registering for the first time the pained expression on his face, as if he was about to cry, and has been crying for a while.

His eyes were red, his cheeks and lips irritated and when she looked down she realised his clothes were covered in blood.

She looked up, slowly, as if it pained her to do so. And it did. The smile was gone and she took a step back away from him, her eyes wide with horror. "Where's Dean?" she repeated, swallowing the lump in her throat.

She didn't get answer. Sam only lowered his head and bit his lip, running a hand through his hair.

"No," she said suddenly, fear replaced by anger and she took a threatening step towards him. "Sam, don't you dare say that Dean is-"

Her voice broke and she collapsed into his chest, Sam wrapping his arms around her tightly and pressing her against him, as if the hellhound was coming for her too and he didn't want to lose her as well. Grace sobbed and bit a mouthful of the hunter's shirt, not caring when she could taste blood.

She shook her head as Sam's own tears fell on her hair, having spilled the moment she realised what had happened.

"No..."

* * *

Sam was leaving.

The hunter was shoving clothes, books and weapons into the bag on the desk, in both a violent and a tidy manner.

Bobby was watching him with heavy eyes, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He was leaning on the doorway when he shook his head and scoffed and left the room, gripping the glass of whiskey in his hand so tightly the ghost in the room could almost hear it crack.

Grace watched him leave with a frown from her spot on the other side of the desk and then she turned back to Sam, chewing on her lip.

It couldn't have been more than a week since it all happened, since… Dean's soul was dragged down to hell. When Sam was able to formulate words he told Grace everything that had happened. Lilith had tried to kill him but her blast attack did nothing and she fled Ruby's body before he could kill her. But it was too later for his brother.

Bobby and Sam had buried Dean's body in Illinois in a simple wooden coffin, refusing to burn him, Sam swearing to find a way to save his brother's soul. Then they found Grace on the way home just when they began to notice her prolonged absence and the rest she knew.

They went back to Bobby's, each of them lost to their own thoughts. On the second day Sam opened his mouth only to announce that he was leaving.

They protested of course, but their attempts to convince him to stay were futile. Sam's mind was made up the moment he lowered his brother into the ground.

Grace was brought out of her thoughts by Sam's muttering. The hunter cursed under his breath, looking for his coat that he could have sworn he put on the back of his chair. Grace held up a hand, and the coat flew from where it rested on the floor by one of the bookshelves, half covered in papers and hit the tall man straight in the face.

Sam pulled it off with a small chuckle, folding the article of clothing next to his bag and smiling up at Grace. "I forget that you can do that sometimes."

Grace returned the smile, even though neither of their gestures reached their eyes. "Yeah, I do too. Mostly when I'm angry, I think."

Sam sighed and looked down, resting his hands on the desk. "Will you be okay?"

Grace looked down at the journal she was reading, wincing when to the side she noticed a lose sheet of paper that she had been bent over just a few hours prior. She took it and hid the drawing of a hellhound under the nearest book before Sam could see it. "Of course," she muttered distractedly, "I've got Bobby. He'll take care of me." It wasn't a particularly good drawing and it didn't have much value and it contradicted every other illustration of a hellhound that they knew of but she sketched it none the less, hoping one day that it could help answer some questions, even the ones that hadn't surfaced yet.

Sam nodded, observing as she flailed around with a frown. Grace met his eyes and sighed, stilling her movements. "I won't stop looking," she promised, her eyes showing nothing but honesty and determination. And she meant her words, knowing that she truly will do all she can to find a way to save Dean. They won't give up on him.

"I know," Sam nodded, straightening up and returning to his packing. "Me neither." Grace rubbed her shoulders and as Sam began to check over his gun she bent over and out of the bag under her chair she took out the knife Dean gave to her when the three of them were getting ready to go after Lilith.

"Here," she said, extending it towards him and he looked up, immediately recognising the weapon. "You should probably have this back."

"No," Sam shook his head politely, "you should keep it, Grace. Dean would have wanted you to." He smiled and motioned towards his bag and out through the window where she could see the Impala parked close by. "Besides," he shrugged. "I already have an arsenal."

Grace chuckled and looked back down at the journal, Sam raising an eyebrow at the ghost.

"What?"

"You know, you hunters are like Phoenixes," she began, shifting in her seat to bring her knees to her chest and to wrap her arms around them. "Normal people after tragedies such as yours, they break – you guys don't. You rise from the ashes of your destruction stronger than before." She reached a hand out and rested it on the sketch of one of the many monsters drawn in John Winchester's journal and Sam sensed that she wasn't just talking about him. Then she smiled. "Bobby says I shouldn't waste my time with this, but I wanted to flick through it again before you took it with you. Your father seems like he was a good man."

Sam couldn't help but laugh and shake his head a little. "Most wouldn't agree."

"Okay…" Grace looked away with a frown. "But he was a good hunter, right?"

Sam hesitated, wavering on his feet. "He was… obsessive."

"Hunting the yellow-eyed demon?"

"Azazel. Yes."

Grace looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry… About Dean." For a moment she considered to tell him she was sorry about his parents and Jess too – Sam had mentioned his dead girlfriend to her in passing once or twice – but she felt like she would just find more and more people on the list of the dead and her condolences would continue on forever.

Sam nodded, avoiding her eyes. "Yeah, me too."

Grace shook her head and mentally kicked herself for her stupidity – yet again she managed to lead the conversation to the wrong direction. "Okay," she breathed, shutting the journal and holding it out for Sam to take. "One last lesson before you go: tell me about the Colt."

The hunter's head snapped to her and a small smile graced his lips. He stared at her for a few moments, as if considering it, and took the journal from her hands and stuffed it into his bag, zipping it shut.

Pulling up a chair, he sat down across from her and laced his fingers together. "Samuel Colt was an inventor, born on July 19, 1814…"

* * *

**A/N: Well, Dean's in hell and Sam has left and Grace is not a very happy girl – sorry, ghost. Wonder what she'll get up to... Review (pretty please)?**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to update. I have been harshly reminded, unfortunately, that real life exists.**

* * *

**XIV**

"_Just, keep your head low, don't speak."_

_Grace gave the maid beside her a small nod to show that she heard her and the woman closed her eyes, scooping the young woman into her arms and kissing her forehead as she fought back the tears brimming in her eyes._

"_No talking!" a voice barked and the two women jumped away, lowering their heads. After a moment Grace chanced a look, her eyes slowly travelling up the baggy jeans and the brown, heavyweight coat until they reached a head covered in a black mask, only eyes free. They crinkled, as if the man was smiling at her behind the gun in his hands and he turned, his shoulders moving in silent laughter._

_Grace glared at the back of his head as he nodded to another of the masked men and resumed his spot at the window, peaking through the curtains._

_She knew exactly what this was: a home invasion. Only it was different from anything she had seen on the television or read about. These guys didn't call her father who was on a business trip, and they didn't call the police, for a ransom. They were quiet. They cut the phone lines and fully surrounded the house before they made their presence known, picking the locks and catching them all by surprise._

_The first sound they heard was a scream from an elderly servant. Grace was woken up from her slumber, having dozed off in front of a television in the living room and turned around only to come face to face with the barrel of a gun. Grace and the servants, as well as a knocked out security guard, were all rounded up in the living room, their hands and feet tied and guns pointed at their heads._

_Only later did Grace realise why the maid told her to be quiet. The men weren't here just for money, or their belongings. She doubted they were there for profit at all. No. They were there purely for the thrill of the crime: torture and the kill; and they savoured every frightened and pained scream from the hostages before they killed them._

_The final hour of the invasion was a blur of screams, gunshots and blood spraying on her face and her own wounds. Pain burned at her shoulder, then her chest and her right leg and then, she found herself clawing at the hard ground as she was dragged across the street, sobbing and screaming louder with every shot that echoed from inside the house._

_The girl was turned over with a rough kick to her stomach and she shut her eyes in pain, scrambling to get up the moment her back hit the concrete, but a foot was placed on her neck, forcing her down. Her eyes widened as the man pulled up his mask just enough for her to see his smile before he aimed a kick at the side of her head._

Grace gasped awake, jolting up into a sitting position, a book clattering to the ground. She stared at the wall in front of her before jumping to her feet and spinning around, scanning her surroundings with frantic eyes until she was satisfied that she was safe. She sighed in relief and covered her face with her hands, rocking on her heels as she caught her breath. Finally she lowered her arms and took in a deep breath, rubbing the back of her neck and her sore shoulders.

Ghost don't dream.

Well, they are not supposed to sleep in the first place. If they ever exhaust themselves they simply disappear to recharge. They do not curl up on a couch, snoring away with an open book over their face, which was the exact position Grace was just moments ago.

Since she died, she slept almost every single night, as if she was still alive.

But she never dreamt.

Until now.

The first dream came the second night after Sam had left. Grace rolled off the couch to the ground in a sheet of cold sweat, gasping for air and clawing at an invisible knife in her shoulder. Of course by the time Bobby had come running down the stairs with a shotgun in hand she realised that she was dreaming, reliving a memory of the day that she died.

The second time she dreamt, instead of the home invasion she was thrown into the time that Bobby and Rufus had saved her life. Except when the door to the basement opened it wasn't Rufus who jumped in but none other than Dean Winchester. And with a relieved, and somehow smug, smile he extended a hand only to be thrown against the wall, a hellhound clawing at his chest as he yelled out for his brother. She didn't take as much as a step towards before she was awoken, Bobby shaking her roughly by the shoulder, and she choked on her own scream.

Soon, the dreams became less vivid, more like shadows in the mist, but the pain and the fear she felt stayed at the back of her head even while she was awake. It didn't matter what she dreamed of, whether her or Dean's death, or the day she was kidnapped by the werewolf - or even something that had no connection to violence whatsoever. All dreams ended with either her or Dean dying.

The first explanation she could come up with was that seeing Dean being attacked by the hellhound sparked the memories she had mostly buried. But it was rather unlikely that she grew so attached to him only after 3 months. Yes, she cared about him, and when she said that she would do all she could to save him she had meant every word. But for his death to affect her so much…

Grace sighed and bent over to pick up the book that has fallen to the floor, walking up to the table next to the couch.

She knew from some of Sam's lessons back when they were hunting together that ghosts can manipulate the emotions of others, but it was Bobby who told her that ghosts can somewhat sense the emotions of the people around them. They know when you are scared – "like dogs," said Dean, earning a glare from the older hunter – and they know when you feel pain, be it physical or emotional.

Grace put all of it together and realised that perhaps not only did Dean's death resurfaced the memories of her own death, but when she was found by Bobby and Sam, the grief radiating from Sam must have affected her in some major way… or… you know… something like that.

Of course she didn't tell Bobby any of this, but she had a small feeling that he knew exactly why she was sleeping so restlessly – he just wasn't sure how to approach it.

And she didn't want him to. Already there were a few stray, empty liquor bottles placed in corners where the hunter thought the ghost wouldn't notice, until they began to invade every horizontal surface that wasn't the floor.

They were both simply dealing with Dean's death in different ways.

She placed the book on the table, next to the ever growing pile that she is yet to read.

During the time she spent with the Winchesters, she somewhat got used to the concept of death. She could look at the most graphic photograph and hardly flinch. But one memory of Dean's bloodied, wriggling form on the ground makes its way into her head and she's in pain again, forcing her eyes shut.

"_What was it like to die?"_

"_I don't really remember it that well. I know I was in pain, the worst pain I have ever felt, but after that one last knife twist in my shoulder I don't remember anything else. Everything went dark and I woke up in the street a few days later."_

Grace chuckled dryly, giving the clock on the wall a glance before walking out of the room in search for Bobby.

"It hurt to die, Dean. It hurt so much, and I remember every second" she whispered under her breath, keeping her eyes on her feet. "But you know that now."

* * *

"You did well, kiddo," Bobby chuckled, ruffling Grace's hair as the two of them re-entered his house through the back door after having spent the entire afternoon shooting at cans in the yard. He meant it too. Since he decided to teach Grace to use weapons – he found out that Dean and Sam didn't tell her much past of which end of the knife to hold – and although she was remarkably more sufficient with a knife, she wasn't half bad with a gun in her hands. Her aim was still a way off, but she had little to no trouble with the recoil and Bobby, as a teacher, was feeling rather proud.

Of course he never told her that the true reason he taught her was due to her recently emerged nightmares. Grace expected him to take her hunting soon, it's been weeks after all but Bobby wanted to keep her at home, where it was safe, for as long as he could.

Bobby shut the door behind them when his phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out, his eyebrows rising when he saw the caller ID. He led Grace into the living room before saying that he has to take call and retreating to the kitchen, sliding the doors shut behind him.

His voice was successfully muffled by the distance and Grace huffed, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She looked down at the gun in her hand and released the magazine, placing the gun and the remaining bullets side by side on the desk.

A lose sheet of paper amongst the books, untouched from the time they were doing research to prepare to look for Lilith, caught Grace's eye and she stepped around the table, pulling it out from a heavy hardcover about demon terminology.

Half of it was filled in a semi-neat scrawl that undoubtedly belonged to Dean Winchester. On the right corner, her full name was underlined, written in block letters.

Grace smiled, remembering Dean asking what abilities she had. "So this is what you were doing, huh?" She couldn't help but laugh, as she scanned the page. She always thought that Dean was the brawn and Sam was the brain, but right in front of her was the proof that no matter how they appeared and acted, the brothers were both a mix of each.

Dean had written 'Revenant', with a name and a date next to it, perhaps noting down a previous case.

Grace cleared her throat, and began to read out Dean's written words out loud. "Grace Connors almost resembles a revenant: she can interact with objects and has a solid form. However this theory is shot down because she can walk through walls and is aware that she is dead. She also demonstrates an ability that Sam said is only present in vengeful spirits: she can walk through walls with ease. Sam suspects she might have more tricks up her sleeve, and maybe might have the ability to keep learning new things… And we still have no idea what kind of fricking ghost she is." The ghost finished reading only to laugh for the last line was crossed out. "Not exactly literature material, Dean."

Beneath the paragraph there was more: 'Death Echo' and 'Death Omen', although Grace could barely make out if that's what it said because the two phrases were harshly covered in the black ink, as if Dean wrote the names down and then was surprised at having done so and covered them up to correct the mistake.

The doors to the kitchen slid open and Bobby stepped through, stuffing his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. Grace quickly sandwiched Dean's writing between random pages of the same book she found it in and turned towards him, linking her hands behind her back.

"Who was it?"

"I have a case," Bobby announced as he glanced at the clock on the wall before nodding. "If I leave now I can get there before dark."

Grace grinned and skipped towards him, rubbing her hands excitedly. "Great! Where is it?"

Bobby glanced at her as he moved past her to the gun cabinet, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I have a case – not 'we'."

Grace stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to face him. "What?"

"I want you to stay here where you're safe," he said without turning to her, pulling a flannel shirt over his t-shirt, followed by his coat. "Also some hunters might call for information and remember what we talked about."

Grace nodded with a smile. "Take down the message. If the matter's urgent direct them to your cell phone." As he continued packing, taking a sawed off shotgun, her smile dropped and she walked over to him, moving out of his way occasionally as he scurried around the room. "Why can't I go?"

The hunter turned to her and patted down his clothes, a small smile on his face as if nothing was wrong. "It's a ghost case, that's all. Sam already told you about how two different spirits in the same room have a chance of cancelling each other out. I don't want anything to happen to you so you stay here, where you're safe."

Before Grace could say anything Bobby wrapped his arms around her in a hug, squeezing her shoulders and then pulled away and pressing a short, fatherly kiss on her forehead. He gave her another smile and grabbed the keys to his truck, leaving through the back door.

* * *

Bobby was angry.

No – he was furious.

For a short moment Grace squinted, pretty convinced that steam was shooting out of his ears.

"What the hell were you thinking?" The hunter roared. "What did I tell you about what happens if two spirits are in the same room?"

Apparently waltzing into a room and announcing her presence with a smile was a bad idea. Bobby's eyes were wide as saucers and the shrieking ghost lunged at him and Bobby managed to shoot it with a salt round just before it could wrap its hands around his throat. The hunter cursed and turned to Grace, fixing her with a glare.

She was busted.

Well, it was her own fault really.

And now she was with Bobby in a cheap hotel room and the hunter, having salted and burned the right remains thus putting the vengeful spirit at rest, was for a moment considering doing the same to Grace. "I told you to stay at home."

"Oh, come on, Bobby!" Grace had to resist the urge to stomp her foot so instead she crossed her arms and pouted. Bobby didn't as much as blink and she sighed in defeat. "I've been hunting with the Winchesters for three months, I can handle myself!"

Bobby gritted his teeth and repeated his question. "What did I tell you about what happens when two ghosts are in the same room?"

Grace swallowed and looked down, suddenly feeling ashamed. "They cancel each other out."

"That's right!" Bobby yelled, throwing his arms up. "So what part of 'staying home' did you not understand?"

"I wanted to help!" Grace said, slowly looking up at him, her eyes squinting as if she expected him to yell at her again.

Bobby sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, the boys might have let you tag along but I'm not going to be as irresponsible as them, alright? You sit out ghost cases. Demons, whatever, you can tag along."

Grace shook her head, standing her ground. "No."

The hunter gave her a look of warning. "Grace… Don't make me ground you!"

"Look you said that there's a chance of the two spirits cancelling each other out," she reasoned. "Just a chance! Which means that there's a much bigger possibility I can still be of help!"

"Goddamn it, why can't you just listen?" Bobby groaned and sat down into an armchair, resting his head in his hands. Grace glared and flickered out of vision, sitting down on the bed where Bobby was unable to see her.

The hunter sighed heavily, having seen her departure. He didn't understand why Grace was disobeying his orders. Was it that hard to just stay at home for once? After all, she was a ghost, couldn't she sense that he feels responsible for her? Bobby rubbed his face, swallowing. "Look, kid, I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to get hurt, alright? When you're with Sam and Dean, I didn't like it, but I couldn't argue that you were safer with them than with me. Those guys may be absolute idjits more times than any of us would like, but the boys are tough. I'm not-"

He stopped suddenly and looked down at his feet, having realised how empty – even if they were honest – his words were. Dean was gone. And Sam was God knows where. Grace couldn't replace them, and of course he never even considered such a thing but without the Winchesters, life seemed emptier. He wasn't going to lose Grace too.

"I know." Bobby's head snapped to Grace and she smiled, having made herself visible again. "And I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you, I really am. I just…" She sighed and linking her arms behind her head fell backwards on the bed. "I want to help. I want to hunt."

Bobby managed to pull his lips into a smile. "I know, kid, I know."

* * *

**A/N: I hope I wasn't too forward in describing the dream. I mean, I do want to give glimpses of how violent Grace's death was, but I don't really want to just put it out there. *Sigh* This is harder than I thought.**


	15. Chapter 15

**XV**

Three months.

That's how long it's been since Sam left. Not a single phone call or text.

The first month was rather peaceful and despite Grace's previous reluctance at being left alone at the house while Bobby was out hunting, she soon became rather comfortable with spending her days in Bobby's library. Even Bobby himself was surprised that no matter how many books he left for her to read, they were all read by the time he came back.

Although Grace didn't seem too proud of her accomplishments – they still hadn't found a way to save Dean.

Then one day Bobby found a case involving a demon and let Grace go hunting with him. And she did well, drawing the devil's trap above the clod's head while he was rambling on about all the people he had killed in his current meat-suit.

With the next case, and every case that followed, Bobby became more comfortable with Grace by his side while they faced a monster, teaching her every step of the way. How to kill werewolves, changelings, crocottas, shapeshifters and every other creature that he and the Winchesters have encountered before. He even taught her how to get rid of different types of ghosts but Grace still wasn't allowed on any of the ghost hunts, something that she accepted with a poorly disguised chagrin.

Then one day, one of Bobby's spare phones rang. Grace dropped the book she was reading and with a sigh stood up from the chair, stretched her limbs and stalked over to the phone as Bobby's voice could be heard carrying from the upstairs, telling her to answer it. "Yeah, yeah," the ghost muttered, picking the phone up and answering, holding it to her ear. "Bobby Singer." She mimicked the hunter's voice perfectly, having learned recently of the skill and not missing a single chance to use it.

It was Sam. After three months of no contact whatsoever, he had the nerve to call to ask for help.

When he first left, Grace tried to call him multiple times before giving up. She had no idea where he went or what he did – she could only assume he was occasionally hunting between looking for ways to save Dean – and naturally both her And Bobby were worried.

So when she heard Sam on the other end of the phone she was glad that it wasn't really Bobby who answered because he would have most likely hung up the phone before Sam could finish his first word. After she explained that it was her Sam was speaking to and not the older hunter, she agreed on helping him to find out what he needed. Three books later Sam was muttering a dozen 'thank you's, the scratching of pen against paper heard over the phone.

Grace cleared her throat and dared to ask him what was weighing on her mind from the moment he called. "So, hey, were you thinking of paying us a visit?" Sam hung up with a half-assed excuse. Grace stared at the phone, her jaw agape, and screamed in anger, pitching the phone at the wall and running a hand through her hair. "Asshole!"

She liked Sam. She really did. And she missed him like crazy.

But she noted to herself to punch him in the face next time she sees him.

"Am I interrupting?" Grace turned to see Bobby leaning against the doorway with a beer in his hands and a raised eyebrow directed at the phone on the ground. She smiled sheepishly and bent over to pick it up, sighing in relief when she saw that her throw didn't damage it much.

"Do we have a case?" she asked when she looked at him again and noticed that in his hand he held one of the cordless phones that usually hung on the wall, reserved for whichever department chief a stray hunter needed for Bobby to impersonate.

"Yeah," Bobby nodded. "And more."

Grace threw the phone on the desk and crossed her arms, nodding at him to continue. "Well?"

"I contacted a hunter about your 'condition'," he began, but when Grace's eyes widened in alarm he immediately put the phone on the top of a nearby bookshelf and held his palms up to calm her down. "Hey, don't worry, he's alright. He's retired and trustworthy enough not to go blabbing. He said he knows a kid that might be able to help us, so he got in touch with him."

"A kid?"

Book took a swig of his beer and shrugged at her raised eyebrows. "Just a term," he waved her of, after a pause adding, "I hope. We're meeting a man named Cornelius James at a bar in Austin, Texas."

"Right. And the case?"

Bobby grinned. "Same town, kiddo."

Grace nodded in appreciation with a small smile. "Two birds in one stone. Somebody up there must like me," she motioned upwards and grinned at Bobby as she walked past him towards the table, stretching as she yawned.

"Really hope that's not the case," Bobby said, smiling as he followed her.

Grace heard him but chose not to comment, knowing the seriousness behind his words. They both hoped that there was as little strangeness to her origin as possible, and of course, had little to no luck in finding out more information about her.

The ghost pushed in the chair she was sitting on and began to tidy up her workspace, closing the laptop and shutting the books and placing them all in a neat pile. Bobby smiled sadly at her actions.

It was a stark contrast to the Winchester boys. Sam and Dean, when not on a hunt, leave a trail of their belongings everywhere they go. Especially when they stay at his – Bobby almost cried in joy when he saw she wasn't as messy as them, often following the brothers and cleaning up after them.

Bobby glanced at the clock and patted Grace's back. "Get some sleep, kid."

Grace nodded without turning around, already pulling out a blanket from one of the chairs and throwing a pillow on the couch. Bobby had offered her many times for her to sleep in one of the three bedrooms upstairs but Grace refused, half out of wanting to keep it open in case Sam comes back and the other half of her simply being comfortable enough sleeping in the living room. And if she woke up form a nightmare, she can simply pull out a book to read or go out for a walk without waking the owner of the house.

Bobby wished her goodnight and Grace mumbled a blanket-muffled reply, already curled up on the couch, her face buried into the pillow. He chuckled before turning off the lights in the room and picking up the laptop from the desk. With one last glance at Grace's already dozing off form he entered the kitchen, sliding the doors shut behind him.

He placed the computer on the kitchen table and flipped it open and as it powered on he walked over to one of the cupboards – ones he told grace never to touch as if she was a teenager – and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, pouring himself a glass.

He returned to the desk and sat down on the chair taking a swig as began his work. The screen was clean, but one check at the web browser history told him that Grace was, yet again, looking up the conditions of the crossroads deals from shady websites that ordinary citizens, unaware of the existence of any monsters, would call childish.

Bobby sighed, not sure whether to feel proud that she still refused to give up on Dean or suspicious that she might try to do something foolish like make a deal.

At first he would have doubted it but seeing how much she missed the two idjits and looked up to them, and the way Dean's death and Sam's absence affected her, he was a little worried that the Winchesters' habit of making deals with demons could be catching.

Well, either way, it didn't matter. Hopefully soon they will know more about Grace and who she is and that might provide a much needed break.

Bobby cracked his neck and began to type in the name that was relayed to him over the phone. He wanted to know everything. The case that he found was simple enough, hopefully nothing more than a vampire. He was actually surprised that no hunter had taken care of it. It was the contact who Bobby was worried about.

He clicked on the first link on the search and when it finally loaded he groaned loudly, rubbing his eyes. "You," he frowned and with a sigh downed his glass, glaring at the photograph on the screen. "I knew that name sounded familiar."

* * *

"Right," Bobby said, his eyes following the barely visible street sign as he drove past it. "Like I said before, vampires are pretty easy to kill. Just have to decapitate the suckers. Of course we might have to paralyse it first since they could overpower us in a fight." He turned to Grace who nodded to show that she was listening, her eyes on the book in her lap. "Where's the jar of the dead man's blood?"

Grace shut the book with a thud and placed it by her feet next to a jar of red liquid that she picked up to show to Bobby, the container filled to the top. "Right here. Lots of it, too."

The ghost yawned before bending down to put the jar back by her feet again but a bump on the road made her reconsider its resting place and she straightened up, cradling the dead man's blood between her hands on her lap. She smiled, remembering the day's earlier visit to a funeral home and how she had snuck in, draining a gentleman in a suit dry. They would have gone to a morgue but there wasn't one on the way and they were on a tight schedule.

She was exhausted. It was the evening of the second day on the road and she almost cheered for joy when they passed a sign indicating that they had entered Austin, eager to finally meet the mystery 'kid' and find out what kind of ghost she is.

"And what about the incense?" Grace turned to Bobby with a blank expression and when he raised his eyebrows she finally caught up to his request and with a mumbled apology, dug into the glove compartment.

Pulling out a couple of plastic bags, different coloured drying flowers inside, she held them up for Bobby to see. "Saffron, skunk's cabbage and trillium. Are you sure it's going to work? We just throw it in the fire?"

The hunter nodded, turning a sharp left and Grace banged her shoulder against the door, grabbing the jar out of instinct. "Yup. We'll just throw it into a fireplace and it should make us undetectable to the vampires. A little ash on our clothes and they won't smell us."

"Well, they won't smell you."

"What?"

Grace grinned and put both the jar and the flowers into the glove department, picking the book up from the floor. "Ghost, remember? I doubt they'll be able to smell me."

Bobby smiled and glanced at the side of the ghost's face before facing the road in front of them, his smile dropping into a frown. "Hey, kid?" Grace hummed in reply, opening the book to the page she was reading. "I think you should remain invisible and keep your distance when we're inside the bar."

Grace looked up with a questioning look. "Why? I thought I appeared solid enough to not freak people out?"

"Yeah, but," Bobby paused, trying to think of the right words to use. "This guy has a reputation."

The ghost gave him a pointed look. "Reputation?"

Bobby inwardly groaned, not having the patience to explain and sighed in relief when he saw the bar in the distance. "You'll know when you see him." He chewed on his cheek, as if reconsidering his choice of words. "Actually, you'll know when he opens his mouth."

Grace surveyed him for a moment before shrugging and looking down at the book again. "Okay." She squinted at the small letters through the shadowy light before giving up and studying her fingernails instead, biting the inside of her cheek. If this guy was so untrustworthy for them to need to approach him with caution, then why would Bobby's friend direct them to him?

Bobby cleared his throat and pulled over in the parking lot, actually glad that it was almost full. As much as he'd prefer a quiet bar, a big crowd will make it easier to blend it. "But just in case we end up in a situation where you do have to reveal yourself, I think you should use an alias."

Grace smiled. "I already got one."

"No," Bobby protested with furrowed eyebrows, turning off the engine and reclining in his seat as he gave the bar in front of them a scan of his eyes. "Not 'Evelyn Noble'. You should reserve that one for hunting."

The ghost rolled her eyes good-naturedly before glancing up at the bar and shutting her book, folding her hands over it. "I know. I had another one."

Bobby turned to her with surprise. "Well then, what is it?" He didn't expect her to be ready with one, and it was pleasant to know she was this prepared, though he still would like to avoid exposing Grace if possible. But knowing who the guy is, the plan might prove difficult to execute.

"Katie Stevens."

For a second, Bobby thought he was hearing things. Then he said the name again in his head and his eyes widened and he slowly lowered his arms from the steering wheel, turning to the ghost girl beside him.

When he continued not to comment she looked up and smiled but when she noticed his expression she immediately dipped her head low, her cheeks flushing. She stuttered and dug her fingernails in between the pages of the book. "I mean, if that's okay with you. It was the first thing that popped into my head so I decided to just go with it. I can change it of course, if it bothers you-"

She was rambling now. Bobby chuckled and placed a hand on her shoulder, interrupting her mind-rant. "It's alright.

Grace smiled up at him warmly before clearing her throat and turning to look through the window, faking a yawn, suddenly even more embarrassed than before.

Bobby smirked at her before ruffling the ghost's hair and stepping out of the car. "Come on then, kiddo," he said, unable to wipe the smile from his face. "Let's meet this 'Mr Wonderman'."

* * *

**A/N: If anybody's confused by Bobby's reaction (I doubt it but I'm gonna write this nonetheless) I will remind that Bobby's middle name is Steven. **


	16. Chapter 16

**XVI**

Bobby searched the building, nodding in satisfaction to himself when he didn't recognise a single man inside. Good. The last thing he needed was to encounter a hunter who would begin to ask questions. He walked towards the bar slowly, smiling politely at the waiters who greeted him, scanning every single customer. Most of them were there in pairs or in groups, whether evidently celebrating something, being at the bar simply for the sake of getting drunk or sitting quietly in the corner in a circle of close friends.

But there was one man alone, sitting at the bar, his back to them. Bobby deduced that must have been the kid they were supposed to meet from the way not only he appeared to be the cleanest attendant but the only effort to socialise with people around him was to flirt with the young blonde behind the bar who was visibly trying to decide whether she was flattered or offended.

The hunter readjusted the cap on his head and hoped that the cold chill by his side meant that Grace was no more than a few steps behind.

And he was right.

Grace was indeed following him, but she wasn't as serious as he was. She smiled at the warm atmosphere of the place, her nose invaded by the smell of alcohol. Even when she was still stuck at home, she would occasionally leave to go to the nearest bars, if simply to observe people or to listen to their stories.

Or, you know, laugh and cheer along if a fight broke out.

She liked to believe that Sam went to these places for similar reasons, maybe to also get a warm and a refreshing drink, but mostly to relax peacefully. Dean, to his brother's irritation and Grace's amusement, seemed to visit these places to pick up girls, or – well, usually and – to release any pent up anger in a bar fight.

And he never disappointed.

"You're late," the man spoke up when Bobby was a few feet behind him, his voice low and soft. He turned over his shoulder, but just enough for the pair to make out a shadow of a profile.

"I wasn't aware we had a specific time assigned," Bobby retorted, reaching the bar and sitting down on the stool next to the man, ordering a double whiskey.

"Oh, no, you're right, we didn't." The young man chuckled and held up a glass of golden liquid to Bobby in a toast, a smile lingering on his lips. "Cornelius James," he introduced himself, "at your service."

He downed the glass and only winced a little as the fiery drink flowed down his throat and reaching for a bottle that was to his side, poured in another and downed it before refilling the glass again. "So," he began, fully turning to face a man he was meant to be meeting that evening. "Mr Bobby Singer, is it?" The hunter nodded, thanking the young woman when she handed him his drink and linking his fingers around the glass. "What can I do for you?"

Grace settled herself in the seat on the other side of Bobby, hoping that nobody would decide to occupy it anytime soon. She folded her hands on the counter and leaned forwards to see Bobby's conversation partner in his full glory.

Bobby was right. 'Kid' was just a term. The man before them was not a child at all.

He was rather young, no older than in his early thirties. He had warm, brown eyes and messy, short black hair accompanied by a few days' worth of stubble decorating his jawline. He was of medium built and in all respect, didn't look like the man to be involved in hunting or anything of the like, dressed in purple shirt, top two button undone, a pair of jeans and a black suit jacket.

But his smile, was as arrogant and flirty as it was warm, welcoming and polite and despite the positive first impression, Grace couldn't help but wish for him to just get to the point, suddenly realising how loud and crowded the bar was.

Bobby frowned at the question that left Cornelius' lips. "My friend didn't tell you what I need?"

"Hmm", Cornelius chuckled and swished his drink around in the glass, squinting through it at the other drinks lined up on the shelves. "He might have mentioned it."

"I am looking for information. I want to know if it's possible for a spirit to remain in this world without turning into a vengeful spirit."

"Ah," Grace nodded with realisation. Bobby was going to pretend that she doesn't exist. That's probably for the best. They don't know how the man would react.

Cornelius looked like he was contemplating before he smiled and put his glass down. He watched as Bobby downed his, and offered him the bottle in front of him, which the hunter gladly took and poured himself another round. When Bobby looked up at him expectantly he crossed his arms and leaned back, his back resting against a wooden column that separated him and the other side of the bar.

"So, Bobby Singer," he said with a smug smile. "I heard a lot about you. You're quite a hunter, you know."

Bobby didn't have the time for his flattering and fixed the younger man with an annoyed look. "Get to the point, kid."

"Well," Cornelius shrugged, pretending to be offended." I can always just ask your companion." He leaned forwards to look past Bobby and Grace's eyes widened when she found that he was staring right at her. "What's her name?"

Bobby shifted in his seat, his eyes flickering to where Cornelius was smiling, and cleared his throat. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said offhandedly, downing his drink in two breaths but not pouring himself another, simply slamming his glass on the counter. In a loud bar, the action went unnoticed.

Cornelius ignored his words, grinning at Grace, his eyes raking over her clothes though there was no lust in his gaze. If anything it was playful, even if Bobby wasn't sure in which way. "Girlfriend? No… you're a bit young… Daughter, maybe? You look alike enough…"

The ghost gave Bobby a panicked look but he couldn't see her, remaining tense in his seat, staring straight ahead, his eyes squinting as he tried to come up with a decent excuse. Grace rolled her eyes and sighed, before making sure that nobody was paying attention and making herself visible.

"Katie Stevens," she introduced herself, the name rolling off her tongue as naturally as if it was her own. Bobby jumped at her voice and gave her a small panicked look for having revealed herself. "Hey," she defended herself, "he already knew I was here. I thought I might as well not make him look like he's talking to himself."

Cornelius coughed in a poor attempt to disguise a burp and placed a hand over his hear. "That's sweet of you. Really, I'm touched."

"Don't flatter yourself", she snapped, crossing her arms. "How the hell did you see me?"

The man grinned. "Well that's simple. I'm a psychic, sweetheart."

Grace widened her eyes in surprise. "You? A psychic?" She turned to Bobby with a disbelieving look but he lifted his glass, pretending to drink the last remaining drops if only to hid his face behind his glass. In the end he roughly took hold of Cornelius' bottle and filled half of the glass. Grace rolled her eyes. "Oh great. This is fantastic."

"Why the harsh tone? I'm almost hurt!" the man exclaimed, but despite his words he was laughing. "Yes, I'm a psychic. Well, a psychic-medium to be more precise. A pretty famous one too." Bobby snorted into his glass but the younger man didn't even hear him. "Makes for a nice side-business when I'm not hunting."

Grace gave him a sarcastic smile. "Hunter too, huh? Oh, I'm sure you only use your powers for good, then."

Cornelius slowly raised his eyebrows, flashing his teeth. "Where's the fun in that, beautiful?

Grace searched his face with a small frown, not impressed with his play of words. "You do realise you're flirting with a ghost, right?"

Cornelius laughed and scratched his chin, shrugging and throwing his arms out in a nonchalant manner. "You're not the first, and you won't be the last."

Bobby cleared his throat, suddenly deciding to acknowledge the tension that has risen in the room, and although he was trying not to voice it, he didn't trust this Cornelius, and he trusted him even less when he was more focused on ogling Grace than helping them.

"Perhaps we should speak somewhere more private," he suggested, moving so he was interrupting the line of sight between Grace and the psychic, smiling inwardly when he was successful. Grace shook her head and gave him a small, smile, agreeing with a nod.

"No," Cornelius shook his head. "We stay. In this town, this place and this crowd is as private as you will get. We talk here."

"Well, then?" Bobby motioned for the psychic to answer his original question.

The guy gave him a long stare before shrugging. "Sorry, can't help you."

"Excuse me?"

Cornelius had the nerve to smirk. "You heard me."

"I was told you have information." Bobby looked ready to kill.

"No, you were told I might have it. As it appears, I don't." Cornelius James put three twenty-dollar bills on the counter and hopped off, patting down his suit jacket. "Goodnight, gentleman, and lady," he winked at Grace before striding out of the bar with a confident smile on his face.

"Balls," Bobby cursed, hitting the counter with a closed fist. Just like he suspected; Cornelius James did nothing but waste their time.

"You know, your friend was right about him being untrustworthy," Grace said, following the psychic as he left through the door before turning back to him with a frown. "Only he forgot to mention the fact that he's a complete asshole."

* * *

Grace walked straight through the front door of an abandoned factory and flickered into visibility, Bobby looking up when he noticed her presence. She grinned at Bobby and held up her thumbs. "Coast is clear."

Bobby nodded and lifting the heavy pliers he cut the lock to the door, the chain clattering to the ground. The two remained silent for a moment, listening to any commotion outside, around and inside the building. When they were certain they didn't attract any attention with their less than subtle entry, they opened the old, creaky doors just enough for Bobby to slip through, before closing them again.

"Right," the hunter said, turning on his flashlight and slowly leading the way inside the abandoned factory. "Let's kill this son of a bitch."

After the unfruitful meeting at the bar with the psychic they found a hotel, spending the early hours of the evening burning the flowers and dusting Bobby's clothes with the ash that should hide his scent from the vampires. Grace also spent most of that time, soaking her knife in the jar of dead man's blood. When she turned to Bobby and asked him what he will be choosing for a weapon, since normal guns would not do the trick he simply shrugged and out of the back of his car pulled out a machete.

Grace could only nod with wide eyes. "Yeah, that could work."

And when they finally left the hotel to head over to the abandoned factory, it was just past midnight. The ghost was exhausted but a promise of an entire day's worth of sleep the next day made her brighten up, and push on with the case.

They checked room after room, moving quieter than the rats. Finally, after they thought that they had checked every single room and closet and were beginning to get rather irritated, about to move on onto the second floor, they heard the sound of a trashcan being kicked over.

Grace paused and as Bobby immediately ducked under a shelf filled with old tools, his machete the only thing visible as it subtly glinted whenever it caught as much as a single ray of light, the ghost slowly moved backwards towards the shadows in the corner. But instead of a safe hiding place, she collided into a wall, a hard and warm wall, one that was just as surprised at her presence as she was.

Wrestling with the unknown opponent, Grace pulled them by their collar – or at least she had hoped it was their collar – into the light and her eyes widened when she saw the same purple shirt she saw no more than a couple of hours ago.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Bobby demanded jumping out of his hiding place, taking two large steps towards Cornelius who wriggled out of Grace's grip and glared at them with just as much dislike as they showed him.

"I'm here on a case," he explained, straightening out his shirt and his suit jacket. "Hey, I don't live in this poor excuse for a town," he added when Bobby gave him an annoyed stare. "Did you think I came here just for you?"

As Bobby scowled Grace glanced at him, biting her lip. "Should I be offended?"

Cornelius smirked, his eyes catching something over her shoulder. "Take it as you want, sweetheart, as long as you duck!" With that he whipped out a shotgun and pointed it at her head. Grace obeyed the command, falling to the ground and rolling to the side, stopping in a crouching position next to Bobby. The psychic cursed when his bullet missed its target and the shadow disappeared behind the corner.

"You didn't tell us what we need to know," Bobby yelled, glancing at Grace when she straightened up, "and you want to join us on a case?"

"I don't want to help you," Cornelius retorted with just as much anger. "I didn't even know you were here for the case too. I would like for you to leave, but I am not that stupid to dismiss the fact that three heads are better than one."

Grace snorted. "Depends on the head."

Cornelius fixed her with a death glare.

Bobby surveyed him for a long moment before he sighed in defeat and shook his head. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."

"Right, well," Cornelius motioned towards the stairs, turning away from Grace and curtly nodding at the hunter. "Let's go kill these vampires, then."

"One moment," Bobby stopped him, digging into his pocket and pulling out a handful of ash, blowing it on Cornelius's clothing, much to the younger man's surprise. "This will mask your scent."

"Yes, I know," the psychic gasped, coughing and waving the blackened dust away. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small, see through bag of the same flowers that Bobby had burned earlier that evening and a small, palm sized sachet of blood. "I'm not stupid." When he saw Grace raise her eyebrows at the blood, he explained. "I dipped my bullets in the dead man's blood. It slows them down. Unlike you, I came prepared."

Grace rolled her eyes, brushing past him and leading the way up the stairs while Bobby followed, grumbling under his breath. "We'll see about that."

The second floor of the factory looked as if it either never finished construction or was in a middle of a re-building. It appeared as if it was just started, but was done starting at the walls, moving inwards. The entire floor was nothing but a metal grit, which had an opening in the middle, overseeing a large room on the first floor.

The ghost crinkled her nose, covering her face with her hand. The entire place stank of blood, metal and rust, but in the second floor it was even more noticeable. Which was strange since the space didn't even have windows or proper walls. Thick, gritted, metal supports were erect, with thick, see-through plastic sheets acting as floor to bottom windows, many of them dirty and loose, letting in the cold air.

Cornelius stiffened and he fell a couple of steps behind the other two, his feet light and careful on the sheet of metal below him. "I feel something," he said, barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Grace rolled her eyes, jutting her finger towards an opening in one of the 'window's and turning to give him a smug look over her shoulder. "That would be the wind."

When he ignored her, looking like he was focusing hard on something, she glared at him and caught up with Bobby, standing on her toes so she could see over the barricade blocking the view to the first floor.

"What is this room? It wasn't in any of the blueprints." Bobby muttered, moving towards the opening to the storey below before his eyes widened and he quickly ducked behind the fence, pulling Grace down with him.

She disappeared into the shadows just in time for a bulky man to look up where she was standing just a second ago. He squinted up at the second level, just long enough for her to see his sharp teeth before he turned around, walking to one of the walls and switching the light on.

Bobby frowned, his hand tightening around his weapon. This was not the vampire that the kid almost shot. The shape before was smaller, much smaller. Was there more than one?

"Maybe they redecorated," the psychic shrugged, answering Bobby's earlier question in a whisper as he crouched beside them. Then he tilted his head to the side as the single swinging light bulb was turned on to reveal seven more people in the room below. Bobby cursed under his breath, bending even lower out of instinct despite the fact he was well hidden already. "What are they doing?" Cornelius asked, peering through the gaps in the barricade and curling his fingers in the holes in the metal fence.

The vampires were huddled in a close circle, barely moving, releasing quiet moans of satisfaction. But when one of them took a step to the side to whirl a female vampire around and place an open kiss on her lips, the hunters could suddenly see a young man hanging from the ceiling, tied by his wrists above, his head limply lying on his chest. His clothes were blood-stained and he hung deadly still, occasionally twitching as if on the brink of death but otherwise remained unconscious despite over half a dozen of vampires sucking his blood.

Grace rolled her eyes. "What does it look like they're doing?" she gritted out, her hands curling into fists. She could hear the sound of teeth sinking into the victim's flesh and it made her want to just jump over the fence and kill those monsters right at that second, the air humid with the smell of blood.

Cornelius turned to her with a serious expression and for a second she thought that he would finally say something smart but instead he just raised his eyebrows. "Blood orgy?"

Grace paled, turning to him with a look of disbelief. "I'm sorry, did you just-"

"Shut up," Bobby hissed and they turned back to the group of vampires as another one entered the room, demanding attention from the others, his voice the tone of authority.

Suddenly, a loud vibrating sound emitted from directly where the hunters were hiding. Grace and Bobby froze, eyes wide, and turned to Cornelius who was cursing like a sailor, tapping his jeans for his cell phone.

"You have got to be kidding me," Grace exclaimed, not even caring if her voice carried, pretty sure that the vampires already knew they were there. Cornelius rolled his eyes and taking his phone out of his pocket, threw it on the ground and stomped on it, cracking the screen and successfully silencing it. Grace looked back down at the vampires, her suspicion confirmed when she saw eight heads staring up at her, their lips pulling back to reveal their teeth. "Shit."

"Run!" Bobby yelled, taking off towards the other end of the roof and Grace and Cornelius followed, hearing the vampires hurrying after them.

* * *

"This was our case," Bobby grunted out, swinging the blade and decapitating a vampire that was about to bite his head off. "You shouldn't have shown up and ruined it."

Somehow during the running away from bloodthirsty creatures they ended up in a maze of rooms somewhere on the ground floor – though really it resembled more of a basement – until there was only so far they could run and they had to fight. Bobby by now had realised that the building plans to the factory he had scanned earlier where either simply wrong or outdated by at least half a century.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Cornelius retorted with sarcasm, gasping through the vampire's hands around his neck. Grace, having beaten the vampire she was fighting to a pulp, turned invisible just to sneak up on the vampire strangling the psychic and slit his throat with her knife. Cornelius caught his breath only to turn to Bobby with a glare. "I didn't think this was elementary school and we had to write our names on things." When he turned back he saw the vampire fall limply to the ground and raising his gun he shot him between the eyes.

"You know," Grace smirked, flickering into visibility again, "as a psychic, you really should have seen that coming."

"Ha, ha, ha," Cornelius said dryly, glaring at her. "Can we go now, please?" He threw his hands out in exasperation and Bobby decapitated a vampire that was twitching on the floor, shot through the neck by one of the younger hunter's bullets.

Grace looked around, noticing that all the eight vampires were either dead, or twitching on the ground in a zombified state. One of them tried to sit up, hissing up at the ghost but Cornelius shot the vampire through the shoulder and the creature howled in pain, falling back and clutching at the new addition to his wounds.

"Right," Grace breathed, her eyes on the vampire with a dark smirk, "let's clean up."

A scream diverted their attention and they all turned towards the source. A vampire was running towards them, a barely adult female with wild eyes and hair. Grace grinned and took a step towards her when she froze in spot, her eyes widening.

After the female, came running five more. And after that, what looked like twenty.

"I think," Cornelius began, taking slow, shaky steps backwards, "this is the point in time where we run away again." Bobby and Grace exchanged a glance before following after the psychic, who was already half way down the corridor running back the way they came.

"We can't just leave," Grace yelled after him, glancing behind her to check how fast the vampires were coming after them.

"Yeah, well you guys do whatever you want," the psychic barked out, rounding a corner. "I'm getting out of here."

He skidded to a stop, cursing when he was faced with a dead end. Grace almost ran into him, laughing dryly despite the situation. "And how's that going for you?" she sneered, motioning at the wall blocking their way.

"Guys!" Bobby ran past them, pointing hurriedly towards a small room to their left. Grace and Cornelius followed and once they were inside, Grace being careful not to touch the door because it looked suspiciously like it was made from iron, he shut the door behind them. The pair turned around to see him turn the circle in the anticlockwise direction with clenched teeth until they heard a loud, groaning click on the lock.

"Oh, great," Cornelius threw his arms out in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. "Lock us in, that is a brilliant idea."

"Have a better one?" Bobby shot back, laving the door and running around the room to see if he could find anything useful.

Grace jumped when the door screeched and a loud thud sounded, as if a tank has rammed into it. "Great," she nodded, "now they're trying to get in."

"So what do we do, huh, wait until the entire vampire population relocates here?" Cornelius yelled at the older hunter before grimacing, looking down at himself. "Ugh, I hate vampires. Look at my clothes."

Bobby and Grace slowly turned to him to see him attempting to wipe some of the blood off his clothes. They exchanged a glance, both rolling their eyes in unison before focusing on the banging on the door, Bobby approaching them when he didn't find anything.

"You know," Bobby started, digging into his pockets and checking how much ammo he had left, "this would be much easier without your constant yapping."

"Yeah and your one, small vampire turned into an entire nest," Cornelius mocked, patting down his coat before giving up and stripping it from his shoulders, throwing it into a corner. "So much for an easy case."

Grace frowned, trying to ignore their bickering and remember exactly how many vampires she saw coming for them. "Where the hell did they all even come from? Can we kill them all?" She scratched her head, knowing for a fact that when she was exploring the first floor of the factory before, she didn't see a single vampire.

"I don't know," Cornelius bit back, "you're the one who's supposed to be some special spirit or. Don't you have a superpower or something?"

"Not, really no…" Grace ran a hand through her hair while Bobby remained silent, trying to think of a solution. Then Grace caught onto his words and turned to him with accusing eyes. "You son of a bitch!" she screamed, attracting even Bobby's attention who turned towards her with wide eyes and slowly began to walk towards the pair, ready to separate them if a fight broke out. "You lied to us!" Grace continued, furious. "You said that spirits like me don't exist!"

"That's not what I said," Cornelius rolled his eyes. "I said I don't have any information on them, not that I doubt their existence."

"Well, maybe, you should have made it clearer instead of flirting with everyone that looks your way."

"If you're implying-"

"God damn it, if we don't kill those vampires than none of it is going to matter, is it?" Bobby interrupted them both. They turned to him, then shortly glanced at each other but didn't reopen their mouths. "Now we need to think of a plan."

Grace sighed and rubbed her shoulders when she suddenly looked up, forming an idea. "How much dead man's blood we have left?"

Bobby shrugged, reaching into the deep pockets of his coat and pulling out the jar. "Quite a lot."

"Right, okay," Grace nodded. "The dead man's blood slows them down. I could go out, all ninja-mode and take a few swipes at them and when the poison comes into effect you guys can swoop in and kill them while they're down."

Another bang on the door made her jump, again, and she turned back to the hunters, urging them to hurry up with her eyes.

"I don't know." Cornelius said, biting his lip, his eyes flicking between her and the door. "There are many of them out there."

"We don't have a choice," Bobby shook his head, throwing the jar at Grace and she caught it in both of hands, immediately unscrewing it and dipping her knife inside so that it had a fresh coat of the blood. "It's either that or we wait for them to break down the door. You ready kid?"

Cornelius looked away and ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath.

Grace grinned up at Bobby and rose to her feet, cracking her neck. "Hell yeah!"

* * *

**A/N: Pretty sure this was a terrible idea for a case. Blah...  
(p.s. I've never been to Austin (or America really) but I'm pretty sure it's cool enough of a town. No hard feelings.)**


	17. Chapter 17

**XVII**

Cornelius yawned, rolling his head and rubbing his shoulders. He was on the lookout while Bobby buried the vampires in the field behind the factory. Originally he was planning to burn them, but there were far too many bodies and they had to be wary to not attract any attention and a massive rising cloud of smoke would make that difficult.

He was helping to bury the bodies too, at first, he and Bobby in a comfortable silence and focused on their work. But when in one of the corners of the horizon the sky had begun to lighten, Bobby sent him to keep an eye out for any overly interested visitors. Cornelius didn't appreciate his tone but he was happy enough to leave him to do all the hard work.

As it turned out, Grace's plan not only worked, but also proved that there weren't as many vampires in the factory as they initially thought. She guessed they were just caught by surprise, having only expected one after all. For such a huge amount of vampires, they were almost careful in not drinking too many victims.

One deep swipe of Grace's knife and they were running in circles, trying to figure out who was attacking them. She had to force herself to focus, and not simply laugh and blurt out 'The Hobbit' references.

Cornelius jumped when Grace suddenly appeared in front of him, yelling out a greeting and waving with her arm in the air. She walked towards where he was resting against the wall, giving him a small smile.

After they have gotten rid of the vampires, they checked the body of the man that the creatures were feeding from. He was unconscious and bleeding heavily from the cuts and the bites in his skin so Grace was charged with the task of delivering him to the nearest hospital. On the way she noticed a patrolling police car and disappeared, letting the young man drop to the ground, staying long enough to make sure that the police noticed. The car stopped and one officer exited, running to the unconscious man, already calling for an ambulance on his radio.

"You're a 'Wandering Spirit'," Cornelius said, when the ghost stopped beside him waiting patiently for Bobby to return. Grace turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "That's what Bobby referred to you as once and I can't help but agree. It fits doesn't it?"

The ghost simply shrugged, not paying much attention to his words, leaning to look around the corner and frowning when she saw that Bobby was not yet returning. "I guess."

As she straightened, the psychic surveyed the side of her face before clearing his throat and facing the road in front of them. "You should get a suit."

Grace's head snapped towards him with wide eyes, her expression a mix of horror and disgust. "What?"

He put up his hands defensively and jutted out his bottom lip. "Don't look at me like that!"

Her surprise turned to anger and she clenched her jaw, glaring. "I am not a demon. I am not going to torture a human soul that way."

Cornelius rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know you're not a demon." He gave Grace a small glance, seeing her look intensify, before sighing. "Look, other hunters will not be as understanding as me about this whole 'I am not a vengeful spirit' business. Those few who even heard of spirits like you, don't believe you exist. Nothing more than a story to justify a spirit's refusal to move on – they all say they won't turn into vengeful spirits and they all do. So if they encounter you, Grace, they will do all they can to force you to move on, trust me."

Grace's glare softened, replaced by confusion but she remained silent, and he took it as a sign to continue.

"Look, I mean the whole possessing business is shady, yes. But there are spirits in this world that want to move on, but they can't. Because they are trapped in their bodies against the will. You just have to look for them."

Grace looked away, biting her lip and she mulled over his words. "What like… coma patients?"

Cornelius nodded. "Exactly. I mean…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "All I know is that if people found out about you, and especially if they believed you're for real, one day someone will try and use you for ill intentions."

Grace chuckled, shaking her head and looking down at her feet. "Binding spells are not that common. Bobby told me you have to be very skillful to even attempt one. And usually only powerful spirits are put under them. I just…" Her voice faded and she frowned, biting her lip.

"Oh come on," Cornelius smiled, pointing an index finger at her. "Since you don't know what kind of spirit you are, then you can't know what you're capable off." His eyes flickered to the sky above them, stars splattered across the dark sheet. He looked back at Grace, this time serious. "What I'm saying is that until you figure out what you are, this is the safest way."

Grace looked away, confused by his words, rubbing the back of her neck. "If I even will figure it out."

"Hey," Cornelius bumped her shoulder with his and the ghost threw him a small glare to which responded by holding his palms out in surrender before laughing. "Don't be such a party pooper," he grinned when her lips twitched. "I promise you, I will look for ways to find out what kind of ghost you are."

Grace chuckled humourlessly. "Why not just force me to move on like other hunters would?"

The psychic shrugged. "Because I've dealt with vengeful spirits before," he said, stretching with a yawn, and crossing his arms behind his head. "And unlike the others I have a slight advantage." He tapped his temple, referring to his ability to speak to the other side. "Besides, Bobby Singer didn't force you to move on, and that must account of something, right? I don't believe you're a vengeful spirit. So I'll help you. I'll cal you when I find something."

The ghost tilted her head to the side, both surprised and confused by the sincerity in his words. "That is… very nice of you."

"Yes it is," he nodded proudly before turning to her and wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. "And by then I will also have a list of all the ways you can repay me."

"And the prodigy returns," Grace sang, with a roll of her eyes. She shook her head with a small smile before turning to him, scanning his profile. "Thank you, Cornelius." The psychic chuckled, shaking his head. Grace frowned and crossed her arms. "What?"

The man gave her a small smile, one that looked almost genuine. "My name is Patrick," he said, lowering his arms and stuffing them in the pocket of his jeans, shrugging his shoulders. "Cornelius is an alias I've had since I was a child. My mother picked it out for me."

His mother? Grace raised an eyebrow, the question bothering her but she forced it down. She bit the inside of her cheek before smiling back. "My name is Grace."

"I should go," the hunter said suddenly, straightening up, and stuck his hand out. Grace considered it for a moment before enveloping it in her own. The psychic shook her hand with a grin. "It was a pleasure to work with you, Grace."

The ghost nodded. "You too, Patrick."

"And..." the psychic added, lightly squeezing Grace's hand just as she was about to pull away. "Do yourself a favour. Follow my advice." He gave her one last smile before dropping her hand and turning his back to her, walking over across the street and getting into his car – Grace was pretty sure it was stolen due to the fact it took him quite a while to get the engine running while she just smiled at him across the road awkwardly. He drove off with a wave of a hand through a rolled down window.

Bobby walked up behind Grace, having finished burying the last of the vampire bodies. He joined her side and temporarily removed his cap to wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Is he gone?"

"Yup," Grace smiled, turning to him with a smile, which dropped when she saw his relieved expression. "He can be nice when he wants to, you know."

"Oh I don't doubt it," Bobby agreed, watching the car get smaller and smaller in the distance. "But only when it benefits him."

Grace opened her mouth to protest before shutting it close, knowing that Bobby was probably right. She chuckled and shook her head as Bobby wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer planted a kiss on the top of her head.

"You know what? You did good today, kid."

Grace looked up with a wide smile, folding her arms over her chest. "You think so?"

"Yeah," Bobby smiled, nodding. "Like a true hunter."

* * *

Bobby shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's wrong. Only spirits on the brink of becoming vengeful have the ability to possess people."

"And I have been able to do plenty of things that supposedly only evil spirits should be able to do. If out of nowhere I do become a vengeful spirit, you can just kill me! We talked about this, Bobby," Grace hissed, glancing at the radio on the shelf to her side when it started to malfunction due to her presence. The calming music channel switched to white noise and Grace turned it off, showing it away where it stopped near the edge, inches away from falling to the ground.

The hunter threw her an irritated look. "That is not what this is about." When the ghost simply returned the stare, slowly crossing her arms and refusing to back down he sighed and looked down at the young woman across the room.

They were in the town's hospital and a few days have passed since they took care of the vampires. The hunter was suspicious at first when Grace pleaded for them to stay for a few more days, but shook it off, agreeing. Then the following day she left early in the morning, saying she wants to go explore the town and didn't return until late evening with a strangely triumphant smile on her face. The next morning she dragged him to a hospital, barely giving him the time to collect any IDs he might need, shooting down any questions by telling him that she'll explain everything when they arrived at their destination.

And she did, relaying everything that the psychic said to her about finding a body. Naturally, Bobby was horrified, in more ways than one. And he didn't feel any better when Grace had explained her point of reason.

"What's her name, anyways?" the hunter asked, looking away from the blonde girl's soft features to the life support machines by her side that kept her alive, beeping steadily. He looked around for a medical file, but couldn't find one.

Grace gave him a sad smile. "Rose Summers. She's twenty seven years old and one year ago she was caught in a car crash that put her in a coma and killed both of her parents. Apart from an older brother they were all the family she had and he, despite keeping her on life support hasn't visited in five months."

Bobby bit his lip, not even wanting to know how she knew that. "Are you sure you want to do something that someone like that kid recommended?" Bobby hoped to change her mind for the last time. "Why do you think other hunters are wary of him? Because to call him untrustworthy would be to pay him a compliment."

He knew that Grace was doing this out of good intentions, and if the soul agreed then morally – well not like it mattered since the definition of what's morally right and what wasn't, was usually fluid when it came to hunters – he didn't really see anything that was undeniably wrong. But he still couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable.

This was… this was just wrong.

Grace took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, I want to do this. Like Patrick said, I will not have to worry about accidentally revealing myself, and we won't have to avoid encountering other hunters in fears of exposing me."

"Patrick?" Bobby pulled a face. "Don't tell me you're on first name basis with that bug."

The ghost laughed. "Sorry, James," she corrected herself. But her smile faded when she turned her back to him, chewing on her lip. Still feeling the reluctance in Bobby's she rolled her eyes and walked over to the bed, Bobby's hand shooting out to stop her. She avoided it and reaching the hospital bed placed a hand on the woman's wrist "Look, I'll prove to you that she agrees with me."

Bobby raised an eyebrow, not sensing anything different until Grace looked past his shoulder and he turned around in question, his eyes widening when he saw the spirit of the girl in the coma smiling softly at the ghost who was still holding her arm.

"Good morning, Grace, I see you've brought a friend."

A pale, blonde, blue-eyed woman in a hospital gown stood in the space that Grace had occupied a few moments ago. Despite the welcoming expression on her face, she looked tired, more so than the body on the hospital bed with dark circles under her eyes and a grey shade to her skin.

Bobby immediately reached to the back of his jeans for his gun, throwing Grace a nervous glance who only shook her head in response. The hunter gave her a displeased look before facing the spirit again with a tight, unsure smile. "Hello."

Rose smiled back, nodding once before crossing over to her body, her eyes sad. "Good morning." She sat at the foot of her bed, next to Grace. "You must be Bobby Singer. Grace spoke of you very fondly."

"Is it true?" Bobby asked, deciding to get straight to the point. He brought his hand to rest by his side again but didn't relax his shoulders. "Are you trapped?"

The woman in question looked down at her hospital gown with a frown. "Two months ago there was a power shortage in the hospital. The life support machine was off for almost an hour and my body didn't die." She swallowed heavily and looked up at him with pleading eyes. "I don't want to be here anymore, trapped in this room. I want to go. To see my mom and dad again."

Bobby tilted his head with confusion. "A reaper didn't come for you?"

Rose shook her head, glancing at Grace who stroked her body's wrist with her thumb to calm her down. "No. Well, I mean, I didn't know that one was supposed to visit until Grace told me."

"That's strange," the hunter frowned.

"It must be because she's on life support," Grace explained, her eyebrows pulled together as if she was thinking hard about something." Her brain is not showing any activity on the scans but her brother is refusing to pull the plug. Although I admit that is a poor reason for her being trapped here. I don't have any real explanation, I'm afraid."

Rose rolled her eyes but not with distaste, a soft smile playing on her lips. "My brother is very pro-life." She looked up, wiping a tear that was beginning to fall from one of her eyes. "Refusing to give up that I might never wake up. And he's moved away, you see, working abroad for a year and I am so alone."

"Remember what we talked about?" Grace said, smiling at Rose when the woman turned to look at her.

The distraction worked and the spirit's sad expression was replaced by that of hope. She nodded before turning to Bobby. "She explained everything to me and I agreed," she said earnestly.

"Bobby?" Grace called the hunter's name. When he turned to her she raised her eyebrows, as if asking for permission.

Bobby looked between the two ghosts worryingly before nodding and giving Rose's spirit a small smile. "Go ahead. But only if you're sure you want this." Rose grinned, jumping up from the bed and clasping her arms together.

"Thank you, thank you!" the girl repeated, a dozen times before giving both hunters a thankful nod and running up to the doorway. She turned back to them, hesitating. "Wait, where do I go?"

"When I enter your body, I think that your soul should be free," Grace explained. "You head over to the hospital's basement. If a reaper doesn't come for you, I felt a symbol and a chant you can use to summon one. You just read what's written on the ceiling. And don't be afraid of the reaper - mine was just a simple man in a suit. He'll help you move on."

"Thank you," Rose smiled and closed her eyes, waiting patiently.

Grace looked down at the blonde's body and swallowed nervously. She glanced over her shoulder at Bobby for the last time who gave her a small, hesitant but encouraging nod, the movement curt. Grace sighed and getting onto the hospital bed, lay directly over the girl, breathing out.

She didn't spend all that day scouring different hospitals to look for a willing spirit to back out now. This was it.

The ghost sunk into Rose's body during the time it took for Bobby to blink.

At first she scrunched her eyes shut, expecting a bright light or pain to erupt at any second. But none of that happened.

All that she did was open her eyes again and take in a deep breath, her eyes widening when she could see her warm breath leave her mouth. There was a small sinking feeling, like a moment when someone peacefully submerges themselves underwater. But it was gone as soon as it came.

She sat up, in surprise, making the heart monitor machine next to her go off into a high pitched whistle. Bobby jumped, alert, and running behind it quickly pulled the plug, silencing the apparatus in seconds. Then he turned to the doorway to see that Rose was gone. Grace continued to look down at her body, staring at the unfamiliar feeling of heaviness, as if a weight was on her chest. It wasn't unpleasant, no, it was just... there. She stared at her palms, clenching and unclenching her fingers repeatedly as if she was grasping at straws.

Bobby turned back to Grace and walked up to the bed, helping her get to her feet when she outstretched her arms towards him like a child. He carefully removed the IV tubes connected to her arms and helped her stand.

"Grace?" he risked asking, when he held the blonde by her shoulders, her feet feeling the cold floor underneath her and taking a small, shaky step away from the bed. "Can you walk?" The girl nodded and he slowly let go of her, ready to catch her if she fell. "Are you alright?"

Grace nodded again, still silent before suddenly she grinned and skipped past him across the hospital room to the big, floor length mirror on the opposite wall. She laughed at her reflection, spinning around, pulling at her hair and her lips and nearly face-palming the mirror when she tried to see the colour of her eyes. She moved so quickly, to Bobby she was almost a blur.

"This is so bizarre," she murmured, folding her arms behind her head and stretching, on the tips of toes. This body was at least 3 inches taller than her and Grace felt so… well, tall.

And it didn't feel strange. She expected for her limbs to feel stiff, and maybe the world to seem different but the only difference she saw at the moment was that instead of her usual reflection, a slightly older woman was staring back at her.

"Well?" Grace twirled around with a small, shy smile. She clasped her hands to her sides and stood up straight with her head held high. "What do you think?"

Bobby gave her a proud smile. "You look wonderful, kid." He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Alive. She looked alive. And even though appearance wise a completely different girl was beaming at him, the voice that drifted through her lips definitely belonged to Grace.

Grace couldn't control the excited squeal that rose from her throat. "I feel wonderful!"

"What the hell is going on?!" With a startled yelp, Grace turned to see a young, African American nurse staring at her with wide eyes, her mouth agape. "What…How… This isn't…" She couldn't say anything else and simply stared, her mouth opening and closing multiple times but nothing coming out. Her eyes moved from Grace, to Bobby, to the life support machine and back to Grace. She shook her head, and giving Bobby a glare she managed to stammer out, "What- What did you do?"

For a moment, Grace froze, and met Bobby's just as horrified and panicking expression. Biting her lip she turned back to the nurse and throwing out her arms, blurt out the first thing that came to her head.

"It's a miracle!"

* * *

Grace was humming happily, sitting on the couch with her legs crossed underneath her, surrounded by boxes of pizza that Bobby had ordered just moments ago. She took a huge bite from the slice she held in front of her, her fingers covered in grease and melted cheese, and a line of ketchup on her face from when she wiped a strand of curly hair away from her eyes. She silently vowed to chop off the blonde, curly blanket that hung down to her waist and got in the way of everything she did.

They escaped the hospital, thanks to the nurse who after Grace's exclamation gave the empty bed one last glance before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she fainted. Grace was surprised, but it was all explained when they found the medical chart in the nurse's hands and found out that Rose's brother had just recently signed the permission to turn off the life-support machine. So they left, attracting as little attention to themselves as they could with Grace in a wheelchair and Bobby throwing on a white medical coat.

Grace barely managed to get to the car before she passed out in the back seat. She slept for two days straight and when she woke and found herself back at Bobby's she was confused when there was a strange, distantly familiar feeling in her stomach as it rumbled.

She was hungry.

And to stop her from completely consuming all the contents of his fridge, Bobby ordered a take-away and from the freezer brought her a beer.

For three nights in the row, now.

"You don't have to eat a year's worth of food right now, you know," Bobby's voice drifted from the kitchen where he was doing research.

Grace finished the slice in her hands and wiping them on her clothes she stood up from the sofa and walked towards the kitchen, her jaw moving as she chewed. Now that she had a body, she had dressed it in a pair of jeans, a grey shirt and a blue, woollen jumper that Bobby had bought her on the way home, promising to let her out to buy more clothes suitable for hunting when she got used to the body she was in.

After all, when she first got back to Bobby's she forgot that she was in Rose's body and attempted to turn invisible and walk through a wall, earning herself a nasty bump on the forehead. It was incredibly humorous to the hunter and extremely embarrassing for Grace and for the first time she was glad that the Winchester brothers were not present.

She walked up to the sink and quickly washed her hands, and grabbing a towel she turned to Bobby with a smile. "I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse," she declared.

"Yeah well we don't have any horses," Bobby retorted, shutting a book that he was reading and turning around in his chair to face her. "Let alone ones you could eat."

Grace laughed and throwing the towel over her shoulder walked up to the kitchen desk and sat down in the spare chair opposite him. "What are you working on?"

"Actually," Bobby sat up and grinned at her, "it's not something I'm working on. It's something I've already finished."

Grace rolled her eyes with a small smile. "Well, what is it then?"

Bobby seemed to hesitate before he lifted the pile of print outs on the desk and from underneath it he took out a small bundle wrapped in an old newspaper. "I've been thinking," he said, placing it between them on a book. "You can't get an anti-possession tattoo because technically you are possessing Rose's body, even if she gave her permission for you to do so. So I improvised."

"And this is….?" Grace enquired, motioning towards the package.

"Open it up and see. I was going to give it to you for your birthday but today is as fitting as any day, I suppose."

Grace narrowed her eyes at his mysterious smile before shrugging and reaching for it, messily pulling away the wrapping and letting it fall to the floor. She raised her eyebrows when a pair of worn leather gloves dropped into her hands.

"Well…?" Bobby grinned, reaching for a glass of liquor to his side and taking a sip. "Try them on."

Grace gave him a small glance before pulling one of the gloves on and raising her hand to her face, examining it intently. "What are these?"

At a first glance, the gloves were fingerless and brown, fitting her hand snugly but not too tightly to be restricting when she curled her fingers into a fist. That was mostly due to the visibly added fabric, to make the gloves both longer, thicker and sturdier, and when Grace rolled the sleeves of her jumper up, the end rested just past her wrist. On the palm, a symbol against possession was carved but on the wrist, the words 'alter ego' were burned into the fabric. Grace turned her hand, to see that another phrase was burned into the back: 'absit omen'.

Bobby cleared his throat and during her observation sat up, beginning to explain. "I brought these along with your clothes on the way home and customised them. 'Alter ego' should both let you hold iron and, combined with the anti-possession mark, let you stay in the body while protecting it from possession by a demon or other ghosts. And 'absit omen'… well, I don't know, I guess I just got paranoid." He looked down and after a moment, added, "You weren't happy about being left out from ghost cases so I was trying to see if I can find a way to make it safe for you."

Grace lowered her hand and smirked at him. "You put a spell on these?"

The hunter scowled. "I give you a present and instead of saying 'thank you', you call me a witch."

The girl grinned and leaping from her chair ran around the desk and enveloped the older man in a hug. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!" she said, almost lifting the man from his seat.

Bobby laughed and returned the hug, wrapping his arms around her back. "You're welcome, kid." When she pulled away he gave her a stern look. "I didn't have much time to make them so they're not of the best quality. You better take care of them."

Grace nodded, grabbing the other glove and pulling it on before straightening up and saluting him. "Yes, sir," she grinned. "I will guard these with my life."

* * *

**A/N: Aww. How sweet... Did you guys like Patrick? I really hope you did, since he'll be returning again sometime (I was going to not voice the spoiler but I figured I already practically spelled out his eventual return in big, bold letters in his dialogue with Grace). These last four chapters were basically to show what Grace has been up to while Dean and Sam were gone, so quiet a few things have taken place. Don't worry –the Winchester boys return in the next chapter... Any thoughts?  
Also: **Meaning of the Latin words that Bobby burned into the gloves:  
_Absit Omen_ – protection against bad omens, and bad things in general .  
_Alter Ego_ – 'the other I' (basically to bend the rules and let Grace hold iron - and hopefully not be cancelled out by another spirit. Still can't cross salt though (can't give her everything, now, Can I?)).


	18. Chapter 18

**XVIII**

Grace yawned, stretching her arms in the air above her head before breathing out and relaxing, slumping in a chair and rubbing her stiff shoulders. Bobby, who was sitting across from her on the other side of the desk cluttered in books, gave her a small glance at her movements before refocusing on the paper in front of him. "Should you be back? You've only been gone for like an hour."

The girl pouted, giving him a small glare. "I'm tired."

"Exactly why you should be out. Still got a long way to go." Bobby turned a page before growling and shutting the book altogether. "Dammit. Nothing in here either."

Grace rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair, frowning when Bobby reached under the table and took a big gulp of whiskey straight from the bottle.

Rose's body was out of shape to say the least, having spent a year lying in a hospital bed, though luckily not too malnourished – Grace was working far too happily on fixing the latter. Soon after they got home Bobby insisted that she got her ass up and made herself strong. The ghost wasn't too worried about the fact that she wasn't as strong in a human body as she was out of it and she knew she could drop it whenever she needed to, but she wasn't too keen on doing that during every case so she obliged with Bobby's demands, even if with a struggle.

After a moment of peaceful silence Grace sighed and rose to her feet, patting down her grey tracksuit bottoms slightly stained with sand. "Fine. You stay here and drink yourself to another coma."

Bobby didn't reply, simply waving her away as he scratched his beard. Grace shook her head and turned on her heels, pulling the rubber band from around her wrist and putting her hair in a loose ponytail. She didn't get to take more than a few steps away from the desk when the phone rang.

The ghost wavered in her way and turned over her shoulder to look curiously at the ringing object. Bobby didn't move from his seat, simply glaring at the device as if it was a demon.

After realising he won't pick it up, Grace did, and with Bobby's voice called out, "Yeah?"

"Bobby?" The voice on the other end of the line seemed somewhat familiar but it was hoarse and scrambled, and Grace couldn't connect it to a face. Lowering the phone she snapped her fingers and when the older hunter looked up, she threw the phone at him.

"Yeah?" Bobby repeated after Grace, before rolling his eyes at whatever response he received. "Who's me?" After a second he hung up, cursing under his breath.

Grace raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Who was it?"

"A prank call." Bobby threw the phone back at her and Grace scrambled to catch it. It rang again and the ghost slowly looked up at the hunter who groaned. She threw the phone back at him and linking her fingers, propped them under her chin, a smirk on her lips. "Who is this?" The hunter barked before curling his hand into a fist. "This ain't funny. Call again, I'll kill ya."

Grace was about to ask if it was the same phone caller again but Bobby placed the phone on the desk with such force that she simply bit her lip and began to slowly walk away backwards. "I'll uh… I'll go back to whatever it was that I was doing." Not waiting for a response, she rushed out of the house.

* * *

Grace loved Bobby's house. In her eyes, it was the true definition of a hunter's home, full of little treasurers and everything that one needed to know if they were in the business. And it was beautiful too, homey, peaceful, even when they had a demon tied to a chair down in the basement. She couldn't imagine it in the style of an ordinary civilian's home. It would feel abandoned if the it didn't have piles upon piles of books everywhere she turned.

On the second floor, at one end of the hall there was an array of stained glass windows. Grace was lying on the wooden floor beneath them, in a calm state between consciousness and sleep. Resting, was what she was doing, or at least attempting to since she had spent the entire day running laps –well more like up and down the street – on the road just outside the salvage yard.

A loud knock on the door startled her just as she was beginning to doze off. Grace opened her eyes and looked up at the light drifting through the windows, as if surprised at the noise. Then the knocks sounded again and she sat up, scrambling to her feet and already rushing down the wooden stairs, hope rising in her stomach that maybe Sam has decided to come back.

"I'll get it," she yelled over her shoulder to Bobby who she knew was ruffling through a draw or something in his bedroom. Taking in a deep breath she twisted the door handle and threw the door open only to freeze when she saw who was standing in the doorway.

A small frown set in a dirt ridden face. "Uh… Who the hell are you?"

Grace's eyes slowly widened and for a second she just stared. Before the man could get another word out however, she shut the door in his face, running to the nearest shelf and grabbing a half full plastic bottle. Unscrewing it, she ran back to the front door, opening it and splashing the holy water in the guest's face.

Dean Winchester gasped, staggering back, and whipped his face with a grimace. He looked back at the blonde girl that had opened the door and gave her a small glare. "Not exactly the nicest way to make first introductions but I appreciate the effort."

"Dean?" The man nodded, breathing heavily. Grace noticed for the first time how winded and apprehensive he looked. She recognised the raspy voice that had called earlier and he didn't sound any better in person, as if he has just finished running a hundred miles. When he opened his mouth she immediately took a step back, raising her arms defensively in front of her. "Okay, before you can get mad, the girl whose body I took was actually in a coma and I asked for her permission and she agreed because she wanted to move on. You can check with Bobby if you don't believe me, he will confirm that I'm telling the truth."

"What?" Dean shook his head, blinking harshly and his ears ringing, but before he could sort out the words that she had blurted out she moved around him to pull him inside and shut the front door, and then threw her arms around his shoulders.

"I'm so glad you're alive," the girl choked out, her words muffled by his shoulder. But after a little while of attempting to squeeze the breath out of him she pulled away, and surveyed him with suspicion, dropping her arms from his shoulders when she took a step back. "Wait. How…?"

He didn't answer at first, staring at her with just as much distrust as she was showing him. Then his eyes widened with realisation and he took a step back himself, with a flicker of recognition. "Grace?" He said, recognising the voice that left the unfamiliar girl's lips. "It's you in there, Casper?"

Grace rolled her eyes but bit her tongue, nodding once.

Dean looked her up and down, confused, and as her previous words registered in his head he surveyed her again, this time uneasily. A long moment of silence passed before he finally tilted his head to the side, blinking, and said, "You… you got a meatsuit?"

The ghost sighed, closing her eyes. "I really don't like that term… But yes, I am possessing a body."

"Okay…" Dean shifted on his feet uncomfortably. Grace looked up at him and clasped her hands in front of her. "Uh nice, gloves," Dean added after a while, simply out of not really knowing what else to say.

Dammit. He had something for this… But his mind couldn't come up with anything smart to say and he was too tired to be embarrassed to appear at a loss of words.

"Bobby made them," Grace smiled fondly, looking down at the leather article of clothing and holding it up for him to see them clearer. Dean furrowed his eyebrows, squinting at the writing on the gloves before she showed him the anti-possession symbol on the palm. "Keeps me in this body and prevents me from cancelling myself out along a vengeful spirit, if I encounter one."

Dean nodded, allowing himself to look impressed as he straightened out. "Nice."

"So…" Grace began seriously, crossing her arms. "How-"

She was interrupted by a pair of feet pounding down the stairs.

"Hey, kid, I got the book we were looking for," Bobby's voice drifted from above, approaching quickly. "It was hidden under the floorboards in my bedroom, no frickin' idea why…" When the hunter turned the corner and looked up, seeing the young man in the doorway, he froze in his step and dropped the book to the floor in shock.

Dean gave him a small smile, holding his arms out in a shrug. "Surprise."

Bobby glance at Grace before looking back at Dean, his eyes wide and his jaw brushing the ground. "I… I don't…" He took slow, stiff steps towards the pair, Grace moving away from Dean and biting her lip, already calculating the possible thoughts running through Bobby's head.

"Yeah, me neither," Dean said, also taking a step towards the hunter, oblivious to the knife that Bobby took from the shelf behind him. "But here I am."

As Dean approached him, Bobby lunged forward and slashed at him with the knife. Grace jumped away with a yelp, squeezing past him and further into the hall, resting her arm on the back of a chair that was discarded in the room one day and never really returned to its place. Dean grabbed Bobby's arm and twisted it around but Bobby swiftly broke the grip and backhanded him in the face.

"Bobby!" Dean growled out, rubbing his jaw and stumbling back towards Grace. "It's me!"

"My ass," Bobby bit back, taking an intimidating step towards Dean and readjusting the grip on his knife, his knuckles tightening around it.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean grabbed the chair Grace was leaning on and shoved it between himself and Bobby, holding his hands up in surrender. "Wait! Your name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed and… you're about the closest thing I have to a father." The arm holding the knife wavered but the hunter didn't lower it completely. Dean motioned to himself insistently. "Bobby, it's me!"

He smiled cautiously, throwing Grace a glance and motioned for her to back him up. Grace crossed her arms and gave the other hunter a small nod of her head.

"He's not lying... Although believe me, I'm just as weirded out as you are."

"Thanks," Dean nodded, with sarcasm, "that helps the situation."

Bobby looked at Dean suspiciously but lowered the knife and took a slow step towards the younger man. When he stood in front of him, he reached out and gently placed his hand on his shoulder as if testing if he was real and not just a hallucination.

Grace smiled, the expression dropping when Bobby aimed the knife at Dean again, slashing the air. Grace rolled her eyes and simply stepped away from the exchange, Dean quickly subduing Bobby and taking the knife from him.

"I'm not a shapeshifter," he barked out, rolling his shoulders and holding the knife out of reach as the older hunter's fingers curled around empty air.

"Then you're a Revenant." Bobby attacked Dean again, this time swinging a fist at his head and moving around the chair.

"For God's sake, Grace, a little help here?" Dean exclaimed, avoiding Bobby's hits, the other hunter trying to get his knife back.

Grace simply moved away when they got close to her again, the two hunters wrestling towards the living room. She shook her head and made sure to stay out of their way. "He's not exactly listening to me Dean," she called to him. "He's too busy trying to kill you."

"God dammit it." Dean pushed Bobby away and held the knife out in front of him. "Alright," he said, addressing the hunter as the opponent breathed heavily, glaring at him. "If I was either of those things, could I do this – with a silver knife?"

He rolled up his left sleeve and Grace grimaced as he gritted his jaw and sliced his arm above the elbow. A thin line of blood appeared and a drop fell down the arm, leaving a small trail of red in its way.

Bobby relaxed, watching the blood flow before looking up at the man's face, slowly starting to believe his words. "Dean?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you."

Bobby took in a deep breath and grabbed dean in a tight hug, biting back tears. Dean returned the embrace, a relieved expression on his face.

When they pulled apart, Bobby swallowed and patted his shoulders. "It's… It's good to see you, boy."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "You too."

"It's just that..." Bobby lowered his arms and straightened his shoulders, looking at Dean in question, glancing at Grace who was watching the two with a small smile, glad that the fighting had stopped. "How did you bust out?"

"I don't know. I just, uh…." Dean shrugged and turned away for a second, to put the knife down on the shelf beside him. "I just woke up in a pine box…" When he turned back to Bobby, the hunter splashed water in his face. Grace bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. Dean paused, his words dying in his throat and spit out the water that got into his mouth. "I'm not a demon either, you know. Grace already checked." He jabbed a thumb in her direction before motioning to the older, almost faded wet spots on his shirt. "Did you not notice?"

"Sorry," Bobby smiled apologetically, holding up the glass flask of holy water. "Can't be too careful."

The two hunters went further into the house and Grace followed, quickly rushing past them into the kitchen. She returned with a towel and threw it at Dean as she passed them, heading towards the desk where she pulled up a chair and sat down on it sideways, resting her hands on the back.

"But... that don't make a lick of sense." Bobby was scratching his head, trying to figure out how the hell Dean was in their house, alive.

"Yeah, you're preachin' to the choir." Dean wiped the water from his face, along with the dirt that covered it.

"Dean", Bobby turned to him with a frown. "Your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop." A shiver ran along Grace's back and she shook it off, banishing the images that Bobby described from her head. "And you've been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meat suit-"

"I know," Dean nodded, "I should look like a 'Thriller' video reject."

Bobby sighed and gave Grace a small glance, the girl only shrugging her shoulders in return. He turned back to Dean and crossed his arms, sitting down on a chair next to Grace, letting out a heavy breath. "What do you remember?"

Dean approached them, still roughly rubbing his face. "Not much. I remember I was a hellhound's chew toy, and then... lights out. Then I come to six feet under, that was it. Sam, uh… His number's not working. He's, uh... he's not..." His voice trailed off, not being able to voice the question.

"Oh, he's alive," Bobby waved him off, linking his fingers and resting his elbows on his knees. "As far as we know." Grace glanced at him before looking down at her feet.

"Good..." Dean nodded before looking up with raised eyebrows, resting the towel over his shoulder. "Wait, what do you mean, as far as you know?"

Bobby shook his head. "I haven't talked to him for months."

Grace sat up, smiling at Dean but the gesture was tight, uncomfortable. "Well, I spoke to him a couple of weeks ago but I wouldn't exactly call our exchange a conversation."

Dean looked between them slowly before his arms dropped to his sides and he scoffed. "You're kidding… You just let him go off by himself?"

Bobby glared. "He was dead set on it."

Grace rolled her eyes at the defensive expression on the older hunter's face. She turned back to Dean with a scowl, challenging his accusing look. "And how the hell were we supposed to stop him, exactly?" Her question was rhetorical for she turned away immediately after saying it, muttering under her breath.

Dean looked down and shook his head, crossing his arms. "You should've been looking after him, Bobby."

"I tried. These last few months haven't been exactly easy, you know. For me or Grace." Bobby inclined his head towards the girl who was focused on a spot on the wall, gritting her teeth, not acknowledging that she had heard the statement. "Sam and I had to bury you."

Dean sighed heavily before turning to Grace and approaching her side, resting his hands on the desk. "That reminds me," he spoke up after a moment, waiting to continue until the ghost looked up. "What happened to you, anyway? I might have been in the process of being ripped apart but I do recall Lilith saying something to you and you just disappearing."

Grace looked away again, biting the inside of her cheek. "Lilith must have banished me. Don't ask me how or why because I don't know. She did quite a job on me too. But I'm alright, don't worry about me."

Dean sensed her reluctance to talk and nodded, turning back to Bobby. "Why did you bury me, anyway?"

"I wanted you salted and burned," the hunter said defensively. "The usual drill. But... Sam wouldn't have it."

Grace blinked, slowly turning to him in surprise. She was pretty sure that in Sam's version of the events Bobby didn't want to burn the body either. She frowned before looking down at the floor. Why would he lie?

"Well, I'm glad he won that one," Dean smiled and rubbed his stiff shoulders, removing the towel and dropping it on the desk, Grace's internal pondering going unnoticed.

"He said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow. That's about all he said," Bobby continued, putting emphasis on the last sentence.

Dean turned to him, squinting in suspicion. "What do you mean?"

"He was quiet," Bobby elaborated. "Real quiet. And then after a few days he just took off. Wouldn't return our calls. I tried to find him, even Grace did, but he didn't want to be found."

"Which is strange," Grace spoke up without turning to them, "Since we both promised each other to keep looking for a way to save you. But then he goes and cuts off any and all contact."

Dean groaned and looked up, closing his eyes. "Oh, dammit, Sammy," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

Dean looked at Bobby and threw his arms out. "Oh, he got me home okay. But whatever he did, it is bad mojo."

"What makes you so sure?"

"You should have seen the grave site," Dean shook his head. "It was like a nuke went off. And then there was this... this force, this presence. I don't know what, but it blew past me at a fill-up joint. And then this…"Grace turned to him as he stripped out from his jacket and pulled up one of his sleeves to reveal a brand in the shape of a human hand. If she had any theories that the event Dean was speaking off sounded like a ghost presence, it was stomped down when she saw the imprint.

Bobby rose to his feet, his eyes on the mark on Dean's upper arm. "What in the hell?"

Grace managed to chuckle, more out of her nerves running wild than amusement. "Pretty sure that's not the fashion trend this season."

"It was like a demon just yanked me out," Dean ignored her words, his eyes on Bobby. After a while he reconsidered his choice of words as he looked down at the brand, squinting at his arm over the fabric of his shirt. "Or… rode me out."

"But why?" Bobby asked, Grace seconding the question with a nod.

Dean swallowed, his tone serious. "To hold up their end of the bargain."

The girl sat up with a frown, already regretting her words before she even said them. "But he said he wouldn't... You think Sam made a deal?"

Dean turned to her with a shrug. "It's what I would have done."

* * *

Dean was sitting on a desk next to the windows in the living room, having pushed the books covering it aside.

"Yeah, hi, I have a cell phone account with you guys, and uh, I lost my phone. I was wondering if you could turn the GPS on for me." He was speaking into one of the cordless phones from Bobby's kitchen, looking down at his hands the entire time. "Yeah... The name's Wedge Antilles." A snort sounded from behind him but he ignored it with a roll of his eye. "Social is 2-4-7-4… Thank you."

He hung up and turned around to give Grace a small glare and she simply smiled in return.

She was looking through a white plastic bag, having gone to see Dean's ride and spied the white grocery bag in the passenger's seat. She had placed it next to the laptop on the desk and began to rummage through it while Dean was making the phone call.

Grace took out a magazine and raised her eyebrows at the back before turning to the front cover. She rolled her eyes at Dean and unceremoniously dropped the 'Busty Asian Beauties' on the desk before taking out one of the candy bars. She grinned and immediately unwrapping it, took out a huge bite, chewing noisily, Dean staring at her the entire time.

He shook his head, muttering, "This is so weird." It was beyond weird to see Grace, even if she was in a body different in looks to her ghostly self, eating.

Grace simply mocked him and continued rummaging through his bag, her lips pulling down in disappointment when she didn't find anything apart from more candy bars and multiple bottles of water. Giving up, she sat back down on the chair in front of the laptop, stretching her feet under the table.

"How'd you know he'd use that name?" Bobby approached them, having listened to the conversation by the doorway.

"You kidding me? What don't I know about that kid?" Dean chuckled and crossed over to the table Grace was at, sitting down on the chair next to her and wrapping his hands around the laptop in front of her. Grace complained through a mouthful of food as he slid it out of her reach until it rested in a spot in front of him. The ghost just rolled her eyes and taking the last bite of her food threw the wrapper on the desk, leaning back and crossing her arms.

Dean closed the photographs of an abandoned house that Grace had on screen and opened up a web browser, typing in the address for 'Arc Mobile'.

Picking up one of the empty liquor bottles from behind the laptop, Dean looked up at Bobby with a raised eyebrow, noticing many more scattered around. "Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? What, are your parents out of town or something?"

"Like I said," Bobby replied calmly, joining them at the table. "Last few months ain't been all that easy."

Grace swallowed before scooting her chair closer so Dean so she could see what Dean was doing on the computer. "I tried to tidy up but honestly I can barely keep up." She rested her arms on the table and plopped her head on top of them.

Dean gave her a small glance before turning to Bobby, and then at the bottle he was holding. "You drank all of these?"

Grace held up a hand for a short second. "I helped." Bobby looked at her with annoyance at which she sank deeper into her seat, cursing under her breath and focusing on the screen. "Which I probably shouldn't have said..."

Dean searched Bobby's face before nodding and putting the bottle down next to him. "Right."

The laptop beeped, the display showing a map with a blue arrow pointing to a star. Grace cleared her throat and read out what the phone locator said. "263 Adams Road."

"Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois," Dean continued after her, sitting back in his chair and glancing over the screen at Bobby.

The older hunter pulled his eyebrows together, resting his hands on the desk. "That's right near where you were planted."

Dean nodded, a poorly contained expression of anger and disappointment on his face. "Right where I popped up." Grace looked at the side of his face before refocusing on the screen, squinting at the star on the city map with a frown. "Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?"

* * *

**A/N: "Pretty sure that's not the fashion trend this season." *Dies from sarcastically dry laughter* I'm sorry… No wait, I'm not. I couldn't NOT put this in. **


	19. Chapter 19

**XIX**

"So, what brought the sudden change of appearance?" Dean asked, when he, Bobby and Grace made their way up the stairs of the Astoria Motel.

Most of the car ride to Sam's location was spent in silence, each one of the trio trying to figure out what was awaiting them when they finally caught up with Dean's younger brother. Grace didn't want to believe that Sam made a deal with a crossroads demon, but in all honesty she didn't know what to believe anymore. All she could do is trust in facts. And the facts were that Dean was alive and Sam has been avoiding them for months, most likely up to something that wasn't under the dictionary definition of 'good'.

The ghost shrugged, not even turning to Dean as she answered. "Well… long story short, it was safer this way."

"Safer?" Dean chuckled and held the door open, and the hunters exited the cold staircase and entered the dimly lit corridors of the hotel, looking left and right for the number of the room Sam was supposed to be in. "What, is Lilith after your head too?"

Grace shook her head, biting her lip. "Let's talk about this another time, alright?"

Dean rolled his eyes and turned to Bobby with an annoyed look, the hunter simply mouthing back, "I'll tell you later."

Yeah, right. With all the hours they spent on the road, they didn't make a single mention of why. Well, Bobby did confirm that the girl whose body Grace was possessing agreed to it in favour of moving on, but he left out more detail than Dean was happy with.

He scowled and turned back to Grace with a nod. "Fine. Whatever, kid." But after the words left his mouth, he cleared his throat, pulling at the collar of his shirt.

Grace raised her eyebrows in question. "What?"

"Feels weird to call you 'kid'," Dean explained, stuffing his hands into his pockets and rolling his shoulders in discomfort. "You seem almost as old as me."

Grace turned away with a smirk. "Technically, I am older than you, Dean."

Dean glared at the back of her head as she strode in front of him and turned the corner. "Ghost years don't count, Casper." He called, hurrying after her.

Bobby sighed and shook his head, rubbing his temples with a small groan. "Idjits."

They walked down a dingy hallway, all relaxing when they finally saw the right room at the end. The number '207' inside a red heart. They came to a stop in front of it and knocked, Bobby and Dean remaining in front of the door while Grace leaned on the wall to the side of the door handle, crossing her arms.

She shifted on her feet and then for a second leaned in, raising an eyebrow at the music drifting faintly from inside the room. She jumped back when the door was suddenly opened, and straightened up, ready to greet Sam with a lecture.

He better have a decent excuse as to why he avoided them for so long.

In the doorway however, stood a beautiful young woman with dark, wavy hair, wearing only a tank top and a pair of underwear. She looked at Bobby and Dean expectantly. "So, where is it?"

Dean glanced at Bobby, confused, before he turned back to the stranger. "Where's what?"

"The pizza…" The girl trailed off, looking at them as if they have grown two heads. "That takes two guys to deliver?" Grace snorted at her remark and the woman noticed her, raising her eyebrows and sticking out her hip. "And who are you, their designated driver?"

Before Grace could even think of an excuse, Dean laughed already turning to leave. "I think we got the wrong room."

"Hey, is…?"

Dean froze at the voice, slowly turning to look over the brunette's shoulder, swallowing heavily when he saw Sam stepping into the light.

Sam stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening in shock. He looked between Dean and Bobby, and then Grace, who popped her head around the doorframe when she noticed the stiffening of Dean's shoulders. Sam was wearing a grey t-shirt and jeans, looking grim and focused. And shocked, of course, now that he laid eyes on his brother.

"Heya, Sammy," said Dean quietly. Sam remained silent as he stepped into the room and the young woman moved aside to let him in.

Grace followed after Dean, giving the woman a small smile who politely returned the gesture. When the ghost turned back to Sam and Dean she jumped in surprise when the first had produced a knife out of nowhere and lunged at Dean. Then she rolled her eyes, already unable to wait for the testing period to be over. The woman screamed in Grace's ear, stumbling backwards with her hand over her heart, her back hitting the wall.

It startled Grace, but for the woman's sake she turned around and held her hands up, telling her, "It's okay." But the brunette didn't register her words, staring at Sam with wide eyes.

Bobby brushed past them and pulled Sam away from Dean after the latter blocked his younger brother's attack. He gripped him around his shoulders and Sam struggled against the hold, cursing loudly, his hands flailing to hit both Bobby and Dean in the face, his feet trying to do the same.

"Not again." Grace groaned inwardly and rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to turn away from the fight. Why couldn't they just talk it out? Was it that hard? But no… they were hunters. They had to pull out their knives and slash at each other instead of realising that it was a waste of time and effort.

Sam growled at Dean, his hands on Bobby's arm, his fingers digging into his skin. "Who are you?" He was shouting and Grace couldn't help but be surprised at his reaction. For some reason he didn't look like he was pretending to be shocked at Dean's arrival.

"Like you didn't do this?!"Dean accused.

"Do what?!"

"It's him. It's him," Bobby shifted, trying to calm Sam down. "I've been through this already, it's really him."

Sam stared at Dean for a long time before his struggles began to lessen. "What..."

Dean approached his brother cautiously but with a small smile. "I know. I look fantastic, huh?" he chuckled dryly.

Sam had stopped struggling entirely and Bobby let go of his shoulders, slowly at first. But Sam didn't move to attack Dean again, stepping forward and pulling his brother into a desperate hug, choking as he blinked back tears. Grace smiled but looked away as Dean returned the hug and the brothers just held each other for several moments, letting them share the moment. Finally Sam pulled away, lightly pushing Dean back so he was an arm's length.

Grace turned to the young woman as she stepped forward, the worry gone from her face and replaced by confusion. "So are you two like… together?" If this wasn't a heartfelt family reunion, the ghost would have laughed.

Sam turned to her, as if just remembering that she was there. "What, uh, no... No. This is my brother."

The ghost chuckled and gave the woman a sideways glance, smirking. "But don't worry, this ain't the first, or the tenth time they were confused for a gay couple."

"Uh, right... got it, I guess," The stranger looked uncomfortable, wringing her hands together, Grace's comment not having helped her situation. She turned to Sam with an embarrassed smile, jabbing her thumb at the front door. "Look, I should probably go." She looked at everyone in turn, Grace being the only one to give her a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah," Sam nodded, letting go of his brother and walking towards her, rubbing the back of his neck with an apologetic look on his face. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Sorry."

Grace crossed her arms and leaned against the wall with a small smile as the girl moved around her to collect and pull on her discarded clothes. Sam put a white button-down over his shirt and opened the door for the brunette when she was dressed, now in a pair of jeans and blue plaid shirt, a brown bag over her shoulder.

She stepped out into the hall and turned around in the doorway, giving Sam a shy smile. "So... Call me?"

Sam nodded and grinned back. "Yeah, sure thing, Kathy."

The girl's smile dropped and she looked at Sam with poorly disguised disappointment. "Kristy," she corrected him, her voice quiet.

"Right."

The girl wavered on her feet and gave him one final smile, glancing at the other people in the room before she turned away and Sam shut the door after her, not appearing to care about the slip of the name or the effect it had on the woman.

"Smooth," Grace sang, as Sam walked past her and gave her a pointed stare. She smirked, clearing her throat, the explanation already ready in her mind to the questions that Sam must have.

But he didn't say anything. He simply moved past her and sat down on the bed as Dean approached him and towered over his brother, crossing his arms. Grace exchanged a suspicious glance with Bobby and they all turned to the younger Winchester who was rubbing his knees before sighing and reaching for his shoes, putting them on.

"So, tell me, what'd it cost?" Dean began, being the one to break the silence as Bobby sat down on a chair by a desk, staring at Sam intently the entire time and set on getting straight to the point.

Sam glanced up at Dean and chuckled. "The girl?" He smiled before bending over to tie his shoelaces. "I don't pay, Dean."

"That's not funny, Sam," Dean barked, annoyed at his brother's casual tone. "To bring me back. What'd it cost? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?"

Sam finished putting his shoes on and sat up with an offended frown. "You think I made a deal?"

Bobby nodded. "That's exactly what we think." Grace didn't say anything, silently observing the situation.

"Well, I didn't," Sam said defensively, looking between Bobby and Dean.

Dean shook his head, grinding his teeth. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying," Sam exclaimed, almost desperately.

"So what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it?" Dean advanced towards Sam, his fingers curling into fists. "You're some demon's bitch-boy?" He clenched his jaw and shook his head. "I didn't want to be saved like this."

Sam growled in irritation and stood up angrily. "Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, all right?"

He didn't even get to finish his words by the time Dean grabbed him by the front of his shirt, shaking him. "There's no other way that this could have gone down. Now tell me the truth."

"Guys…" Grace spoke up, her words falling on deaf ears. She sighed and rolled her shoulders. "Can you not fight for one second?"

Sam broke Dean's grip and his head twitched towards Grace but he didn't turn to her, pushing Dean a few steps back and not speaking until he held his gaze. "I tried everything," he confessed, running a hand through his hair. "That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, alright? You were rotting in Hell for months, and I couldn't stop it." His voice broke and he looked away, biting his lip. "So I'm sorry it wasn't me, alright?" He turned back to Dean with a pleading expression. "Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean relaxed, nodding. "It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to apologise. I believe you."

Sam smiled thankfully and Grace sighed in relief, glad that the arguing was done and over with, despite the massive array of questions that loomed in the air.

Bobby was the one to voice it, sitting up and addressing the two boys with a frown. "Don't get me wrong, I'm gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question."

While Sam turned towards him with a raised eyebrow Dean nodded, glancing at Grace who was staring past them with gloomy, glazed-over eyes as if she was in deep thought. He looked over at Bobby, then at Sam, throwing his arms out in question. "If he didn't pull me out, then what did?"

* * *

"Here, Grace."

Grace was seated on the couch next to Bobby and she looked up when Sam outstretched a beer towards her. She smiled, but only for a second before it dropped. Setting him up with a pointed glare and taking the beer from him, she slowly put it on the coffee table while holding Sam's gaze the entire time. Bobby glanced at her curiously.

The ghost couldn't help but be suspicious of Sam. And his disappearance and the mysterious girl had little to do with what she had on her mind right now. What bothered her the most was that Sam didn't seem even in the slightest confused about the fact that she was possessing a body. Hell, he didn't even look surprised. She was waiting for the question to leave his lips but it never came.

He himself seemed different too. She couldn't quiet put her finger on it, however. He seemed… stronger. More sure of himself.

And it irked her terribly that Dean and Bobby were yet to notice it.

Sam tilted his head to the side in confusion, as if hurt by the rejection. Then he slowly nodded in realisation with a small, almost sincere smile pulling at his lips. "I see. You're still mad I hung up on you."

No, Grace was mad about something else entirely but she remained silent, letting him think what he wanted to for the moment. Sam sighed and straightened, and handed Dean a beer before sitting down on the opposite couch with a drink of his own in his hands.

"So," Dean broke the silence, plopped on the coffee table, and addressed his brother. "What were you doing around here if you weren't digging me out of my grave."

Sam shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "Well, once I figured out I couldn't save you I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback."

Bobby glared at him accusingly. "All by yourself... Who do you think you are, your old man?"

Sam chuckled and rubbed the bridge of his nose in embarrassment as Dean sat up, seeing something over his shoulder and left his seat to take a closer look. "Uh yeah, I'm sorry, Bobby," Sam smiled but his apology didn't convince the two hunters opposite him. "I should have called. I was pretty messed up."

Dean picked up what he had noticed earlier, dangling a pink flower-patterned bra by his fingers. "Oh yeah," he said with mock concern, "I really feel your pain."

Grace glanced at the article of clothing in his hands and rolled her eyes, refocusing on Sam and clearing her throat. "You did call," she reminded him, lacing her fingers together and bringing them to her lips. "But when I brought up coming back you hung up."

Sam winced at her words and scratched the back of his neck as Dean dropped the bra and sat down beside him, opposite Bobby. "Anyways," he decided not to hang onto her words, knowing from the look in her eyes that she won't believe his apology even if he repeated it a hundred times, instead continuing with explaining himself. "So I was checking these demons out in Tennessee and out of nowhere they took a hard left and booked up here."

"When?"

"Yesterday morning."

Dean turned to Bobby with a nod. "When I busted out."

Bobby leaned forwards, setting his beer on the table, next to Grace's unopened bottle. "You think these demons are here 'cause of you?"

Grace glanced at him uneasily but nodded along with Dean. "It's possible."

Sam frowned, feeling uneasy at both the subject of demons and Grace's angry stare being directed at him. "But why?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, I don't know – some badass demon drags me out and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow."

Bobby tilted his head to the side, looking Dean up and down. "How you feelin', anyway?"

"I'm a little hungry." Dean had said it so casually that Grace didn't even doubt that he was being serious.

Bobby shook his head with a slight roll of his eyes. "No, I mean, do you feel like yourself? Anything strange, or different?"

"Or demonic?" Dean was reminded of the taunts said to him over a year ago by the yellow-eyed demon when he mocked his own deal, asking him whether what came back was one hundred percent Sam. He shook his head, and covered the distraction with a cough. "Bobby, how many times do I have to prove I'm me?"

Bobby sighed, realising Dean was not catching onto what he meant. "Yeah. Well, listen. No demon's letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts." Dean rolled his eyes but Bobby continued unaffected. "They've gotta have something nasty planned."

"You were in hell, Dean," Grace reminded him.

"Well, I feel fine," Dean gave them both a curt smile before hiding his face behind his bottle of beer. Bobby and Grace glanced at each other, not convinced in the slightest.

"Okay, look," Sam sat up and clapped his hands to divert all attention to him. "We don't know what they're planning. We got a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help."

Bobby turned to him with a nod, agreeing with his words. "I know a psychic."

Grace groaned, burying her head in her hands. "Please, not him." As much as she enjoyed her heart to heart conversation with the certain dark haired psychic, she didn't want to see him again anytime soon. The last time she slept, she dreamt than he abandoned her in the middle of the woods as vampires advanced from every direction. And although news from him would mean information about what she is, she wanted to drag it out as long as she could, especially now that both Sam and Dean were back and they had a mission at hand.

Dean had raised an eyebrow at the girl's reaction to Bobby's words but before he could even formulate a question, the older hunter continued, giving Grace a small glance.

"It's alright, kid, I don't mean Patrick," he assured her.

The ghost visibly relaxed, sighing in relief. "Oh thank god," she muttered rubbing her face with her hands.

"Who the hell is Patrick?" Dean blurt out, his eyes dancing between Bobby and the girl next to him but Bobby ignored the question.

"I know a psychic a few hours from here," he said. "Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking."

Dean looked at Grace suspiciously for a second before turning to Bobby and nodding in agreement at the suggestion. "Hell yeah, it's worth a shot."

Bobby nodded, rising to his feet. "I'll be right back." He exited the room, already pulling out a cell phone.

Dean stood too, as if to leave but Sam cleared his throat and threw himself in his way. "Hey, wait, you probably want this back." He reached into his collar and pulled out a cord, on the end of which hung an amulet. Grace squinted her eyes, immediately recognising it as Dean's, although she didn't know its origin. But when Sam placed it in Dean's hand with a warm smile she figured it must have been important to the both of them.

Dean looked down at the necklace and nodded, swallowing. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets and glanced at Grace but she looked away, avoiding his eyes. Clearing his throat he turned back to Dean who was putting the amulet on where it rested over his t-shirt. "Hey, Dean, what was it like?"

"What, Hell?" Dean shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "I don't know, I must have blacked it out. I don't remember a damn thing."

Grace's head snapped up towards him, her lips pulled down in a frown, practically smelling his lie. But she was too happy to see him out of hell to confront him about it so she bit her lip and held her tongue.

Sam nodded, smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Well, thank God for that."

"Yeah," Dean trailed off, sitting back down and took his beer in his hands, taking a big swig.

Grace looked at the two brothers before with a defeated sigh she reached for the beer that Sam handed to her earlier, clearing her throat so they turned towards her. She dangled it in front of them and Sam took it from her, twisting the cap off. "Hurray to that," she muttered humourlessly, and when Sam handed back her drink she raised it in a small toast.

* * *

Bobby led Sam and Dean down the stairs outside the motel room, his car keys swinging in his hand. "She's about for hours down the Interstate. Try and keep up."

When Grace pushed past them and ran straight for the Impala without a single word, he didn't question it. Bobby had guessed as much that Grace would want to catch up with the boys. He simply patted her shoulder as he walked past her, Grace having stopped at the bottom of the stairs to wait for Sam and Dean, and got into his car, immediately bringing the engine to life.

"I assume you'll want to drive," Sam said to Dean, Grace falling into the step to Dean's other side. Sam pulled the car keys out of his pocket and tossed them at Dean who caught them easily without even turning.

"I almost forgot," he chuckled approaching the Impala with a small, fond smile. Once he reached it he ran a hand along it lovingly, patting the roof. "Hey, sweetheart," he cooed, "did you miss me?"

"Are you okay?" Grace bit back her smile as she opened the door to the back seat, feigning concern. When Dean turned to her she smirked at him, motioning towards the Impala. "I mean, if you need a moment-"

Dean cut off her words by getting into the driver's side and shutting the door loudly, settling into his seat. Grace threw Sam and amused look before following suit, as Sam himself walked around the car and got into the passenger's seat with a smile.

But inside, Dean met him with a glare, his expression murderous. "What the hell is that?!"

Grace noticed what he was pointing to and winced, immediately feeling sorry for Sam. "Uh, oh."

Sam didn't seem to understand why Dean was mad and his smile didn't drop as he clipped in his seat belt. "It's an iPod jack," he said simply.

"You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up," Dean yelled, taking the addition to the car as a personal insult.

Sam simply shook his head, the anger not rubbing off on him in the least. "Dean, I thought it was my car," he reminded him.

Dean sneered and jammed the key into the ignition, turning the engine on. When a soft song began to play, Grace not recognising the track but spaying 'Vision by Jason Manns' written on the bright screen, Dean turned to Sam slowly.

He rolled his eyes and then glared, looking almost pained. "Really?"

Sam just shrugged innocently, jumping when after a moment Dean suddenly ripped out the iPod out of the jack and tossed in into the back seat, earning a small yelp of surprise from Grace who kicked the back of his chair in revenge.

"Unbelievable," Dean muttered under his breath, and violently shoving his foot on the gas pedal, followed Bobby out of the driveway. Sam bit his lip and looked out through the window, letting his brother cool off, while Grace glanced at the two with a small smile, resting her head against the back of her seat.

Oh, how much she had missed this.

And it didn't take long for the brothers to start talking again. The ghost was uncomfortable with the silence but she didn't want to be the first to speak up, concerned that Dean might still be angry and that Sam's words would just add to the fuel; and she knew she won't be able to talk to Sam without the conversation turning to what gnawed at her mind. So when Dean broke it she sighed inwardly in relief, sitting up but attempting to appear as if she was not listening in, her lips moving silently as she counted the passing street lights.

"There's still one thing that's bothering me," the driver said, his eyes focused on the road.

Sam turned to him with raised eyebrows. "Yeah?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, the night that I bit it. Or... got bit." He chuckled at his own wit before continuing, Grace rolling her eyes. "How'd you make it out? I thought Lilith was going to kill you."

Sam shrugged, turning back to looking through the window. "Well, she tried. She couldn't." Grace let her head drop, having heart the story already.

Dean frowned, glancing at his brother. "What do you mean, she couldn't?"

"She fired this, like, burning light at me, and... well, didn't leave a scratch. Like I was immune or something."

"Immune?" Dean's voice was a mix of surprise and hope.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I don't know who was more surprised, her or me. She left pretty fast after that."

"Huh." Dean hummed and tapped the wheels with his fingers, looking at Sam through the corner of his eyes. Grace guessed he was perhaps a little surprised too that Lilith just abandoned Sam like that. After all, with her demon strength, she wouldn't have had much trouble to overpower him, she didn't need no magic tricks. "What about Ruby, where is she?"

Sam shrugged. "Dead. For now."

Dean nodded, opening his mouth but bit his lip, like he wasn't sure how to ask the next question. "So you've been using your, uh, freaky ESP stuff?"

Sam shook his head and bit out a curt "No", but Dean didn't sound convinced.

"You sure about that?" he pushed, although his words were not cruel. "Well, I mean, now that you've got... immunity, whatever the hell that is... I'm just wondering what other kind of weirdo crap you've got going on."

Grace groaned and when the driver glanced at her through the rear view window she gave him a displeased look. "Dean, come on."

Sam held up his hands to try and keep the peace. "I've done nothing of the sort, Dean. Look, you didn't want me to go down that road, so I didn't go down that road. It was practically your dying wish."

"Yeah," Dean turned back to the road, nodding in satisfaction and tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Well, let's keep it that way."

Sam shifted in his seat turned to look through the window broodingly.

Grace, noticing the tense atmosphere in the air decided to change the subject. "So, Sam," she leaned forward, resting her hands on the back of his seat. "Want to know about why in the hell I am possessing a human girl?"

She almost bit her tongue off after the words left her mouth. So much for 'subtle'.

Sam turned to her in surprise, though the ghost couldn't read the hidden expression in his eyes. "Oh yeah," he laughed in embarrassment, "I've been meaning to ask you about that." Grace bit the inside of her cheek while he continued, sitting up so he could see her more easily. "Possessing humans is a mark of a powerful spirit, and an evil one at that. But you don't seem any more 'vengeful' than the last time I saw you."

"That's because I'm not," Grace said slowly, still unimpressed. "I found a girl who was in a coma."

"Huh," Sam nodded before shrugging and facing his window again. "That's fine," he said after a moment. "If the girl's soul was alright with it, I'm alright with it."

Dean and Grace looked at each other, both surprised that he just brushed it off without any further questions. When the news were revealed to Dean he was simply far too exhausted from digging himself up from six feet under to be sceptical. And even when he had Bobby's assurance that Grace's claims were genuine, he was still on his toes and Grace couldn't blame him. But Sam… Sam accepted it as if it was a normal occurrence.

The ghost bit her lip and scanned the side of Sam's calm – overly calm – face carefully. When he sensed her gaze and glanced at her, giving her another smile, she looked away and reclined in her seat crossing her arms and keeping her eyes fixed on the back of his head.

His lack of surprise was very strange indeed.

* * *

**A/N: Your beautiful reviews make me so happy that I jump up and down like a five year old and then I realise that I really don't deserve them at all. Your words are far too kind to me. Now I'm just nervous about not messing all of this up (though I guess that's supposed to be good motivation, right?)**

**IMPORTANT UPDATE: This is my fault entirely but recently I had major computer troubles and I have lost... well, everything (and I only had this chapter uploaded in the doc manager). All my personal files of course but also, most relevantly to this, all my notes (and there were pages upon pages, upon pages) on this fanfic. This is very frustrating because I relied on them a lot, I had everything planned out, dozens of big plot points and small scenes and-  
blah blah blah, I'll cut out the self pitying rant.**

**Basically, I don't want to stop writing this story. And I will continue to write it even if I can recall less than half of all the plans I had for it (which sucks big time).  
I just can't guarantee a date at which I'll be able to update (since I have lost a computer and as sad as it is to say, it was a pretty important part of my life).  
It could be months. Maybe less. Most likely more. But I suppose this will give me time to try and remember the notes I had.  
**

**So there, I just wanted to let you know. I will not abandon this.**

**Also, on the off note, I have no idea why I put one of the genres as 'romance'. I don't think I can write romance. How do you write romance? (Does this mean I have homework?) And I have no idea (well, I do have a few) on who Grace should end up with. Well, to be more precise, I have 'definite/potential relationships' but if I go on, this will all be major spoilers and I have already said too much. I will probably destroy any interest that this story gained by saying I am reluctant to tie her to either one of the Winchesters or Castiel (I mean in the end, 'you are the one' type of thing), I can't really explain why. Maybe this way of thought will change one day since this story is not set in stone, I don't know (though I meant what I said- wrote). Where was I going with this?.. Oh, right, suggestions are welcome, I think (will I regret this?). And I am not above saving a character from death. Although this is a silly idea, since I haven't even revealed what Grace is, etc. I apologise. I think I'll just keep that position open.  
...I really shouldn't get ahead of myself, I don't even know how far this will go...**

**But yeah, I think that's all. **

**When I finally update I shall delete this atrocious note from the history of mankind. Seriously, I will create the 'memory eraser' just for that purpose.**


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