Note: This story takes place after "Hunted" in my series. Please enjoy the fluffiness of Winchester happiness.
I've never needed much sleep. Four hours is all I really need to function and if I get five or six, I'm gold. Since I've known her, Grace has needed more. She sleeps soundly too, usually on her side or her belly, her breathing is rhythmic and comforting. I've watched her for two years, sleeping my fill and then I'm up before the sun, just staring at the beautiful creature lying next to me. Most of the time, I don't believe she's real.
The Winchester line didn't stop like I thought it would, dying out with Sam and me. I'm a father. It's still weird to say, or even think, but there she is, in the flesh, lying next to me on her belly, mimicking her mother as she breathes softly.
If you told me that I would be a husband and father three years ago, I would have told you that you were drunk or crazy, but here I am, watching my wife and kid sleep next to me. I don't know where I went right, but I still have a hard time believing that I deserve any of it.
Three years ago, Grace found me, completely broken. I was on my last legs…between The Mark of Cain and the fact that felt like I had nothing left, I planned on drinking until my liver gave out, just so I wouldn't have to pull the trigger myself. She saw through whatever front I kept trying to put up and took down my walls, a piece at a time. I was floored that a girl like her would be interested in a guy like me.
We're drawn to each other, like magnets, and I knew right from the beginning of our relationship that we'd go down hard; crash-and-burn-style for each other and at first, I panicked. There was no way I could get close to someone like that.
And then we had pie.
I hung up the phone with a girl I just met and shook my head. "What the fuck am I doing?" I couldn't help saying it out loud. Sam would be pissed at me, thinking that I could get into a relationship with someone I might kill, but here I was, inviting her on a day date to get pie. I rubbed the pain out of my arm, glancing down at the sonofabitch that was branded there. I loathed it with everything I was.
Just this morning, I woke up, sweaty and fucking pissed for no particular reason. It was The Mark. It was always The Mark. I knocked over a bookcase and Sam just stared until I calmed down, then I couldn't even bring myself to apologize to him. I was becoming a real jerk.
Grabbing my keys, I tossed them to myself as I walked down the hall of the BatCave. "Where are you going?" I heard Sam's voice from his room as I walked by.
"I'm gonna go have some pie," I said, trying to avoid any details.
Sam puffed air at me, predictably. "Pie. With who?"
I remember fighting a lot that day with my dumbass brother, yelling profanities at each other about "keeping the civilian population safe." Then I made the mistake of telling Sammy that I thought she was a hunter and a psychic…man. That didn't go well either. As I left for my date with Grace, I knew he was hoping that I wouldn't call him, asking him to help bury a body. Somehow, I knew that I wouldn't— I couldn't hurt her.
I've never been on a day date with a girl, not expecting to get laid. Really, when I picked her up, I was bent on nice conversation with the beautiful thing. Before I knew it, we were making out in the parking lot and I just lost myself in her. I just kept thinking to myself, Jesus, if this is what she looks like in sweats and a hoodie… I couldn't get enough. The next thing I knew, we were tiptoeing through the BatCave to get to my room because, well, they frown upon having sex in a parked car at a restaurant in the middle of the day.
From then on, I was hooked. Well, not really. It was before that. I was addicted to Grace when I asked her what she saw when she touched me. She smiled that glorious smile and said, "Call me."
Now, here I am, living a normal life with a wife and a kid and a real job with a mortgage. The Mark of Cain has all but disappeared off of my arm because Grace absorbs it being what she is. Yeah, I married a half-angel. All I can do is shake my head…I wish I could go back in time to tell my twenty-six year-old self that I would end up marrying something that he would have tried to kill. I say 'tried' because let's face it; if it came to blows, Grace could kick my ass four times before I hit the floor. So much has changed in such a short amount of time…it's times like this that I really miss mom. We were monster hunters…saving people, hunting things…the family business. But now? It's fixing the leaky pipe under the house and getting to work on time after being up all night with a teething newborn, and I love every goddamned minute.