::Welcome back, everyone! War has definitely been a work in progress; trying to figure out some of our new characters and how they interact with everyone else. It's taken me a long time to be happy with the outcome. I hope you guys like it. Let me know, leave a review. Let's head back to Winchester Ranch. Enjoy! Love and internetty hugs,

The Girl With The Dinosaur Tattoo::


Chapter 1

Grace breathed a heavy sigh as she tossed her keys onto the giant wooden farm table in the middle of the dining room. They skidded to a stop with a clink against the vase in the center of the table, leaving a clean trail through the drywall dust that had settled on the surface. Her husband, Dean Winchester, followed closely behind, his jade eyes almost closed in relief that they were home and that the house was still standing. Driving hard for twenty-six hours straight in order to get home as quickly as possible, both Grace and Dean Winchester were absolutely exhausted. The two exchanged looks and nodded slightly at the state of the living room: dust had settled in the corners and the walls would need to be patched. The entry way would need a new coat of paint and the hardwood floors would need to be sanded and polished again, but no matter the damage, the Winchester family was safe.

For now.

Without waiting for acknowledgement, Sabina Wells continued through the living room towards the back door, and unlocking it, she opened the door and disappeared into the darkness.

"Has she said anything to you since Holden?" Dean asked, turning towards Grace and lifting his eyebrows.

Grace shook her head. The teenager that had taken up residence with the Winchester family had lost everything she owned, including her family, over the last few weeks. On the drive back from Maine, Sabina had been silent, only speaking when directly spoken to, and even then, it was usually just a grunt or nod.

Dean nodded slowly and walked towards the stairwell.

"Go ahead and leave it," Grace muttered towards her husband as he attempted to carry the bags up the steps. "I'm too tired to put anything away. We're getting old."

Dean threw her a look and pressed his lips together, "Old," he muttered, shaking his head. "Ain't that the truth?" He rerouted towards the mudroom in the rear of the kitchen and dumped the bags from their trip to Holden, Maine, walking slowly across the hardwood, his boots echoing into the silence of the house. "Everyone's over at the Little House, I take it?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Grace answered. "Serra's still pretty amped up."

"She awake?"

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Grace hesitated, listening for her sister. "No," she answered. "Sam is, though."

Dean turned towards the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, probably out of sheer habit, then turned towards the window and watched the wheat in the field between the houses dance in the breeze. The moon shone brightly down, bathing the entire area in a blue light.

Hearing his thoughts as well as if they were her own, Grace listened to her husband as he mulled over the details of the demon attack on their house and their children, just the day before. Guilt wound through both of them like snakes, knowing that they hadn't been there to protect their kids.

"They could have been killed, Gracie," Dean whispered to the window.

"But they weren't," she replied instantly. "Serra and Sam were here. Cas was here. They're all okay."

Turning slowly to face his wife, Dean shook his head slowly. "Why aren't you pissed? I mean, how are you this calm? Why aren't you ready to go to war?"

"Because we're not even supposed to be hunters anymore," Grace sighed, rubbing her face with both hands. "We got out. We were done." She crossed her arms in front of her chest and took a deep breath. "We have four kids, Dean. We can't keep doing this."

"We're never out, Grace," Dean answered, turning to lean his hips up against the counter to stare at his wife. "I know that's what you wanted. I wanted to get out, too," he took a swig of his beer and rolled his head from side to side. "I wanted out as soon as I held Lib for the first time."

Grace remained silent.

"For awhile we did," he continued; his deep voice quiet. "Longer than I ever could have hoped for, but, Gracieā€¦there's a girl out there that has nothing left because of something a group of monsters did." Dean used the same hand that clutched the beer bottle and gestured out the window towards the barn that housed their newly acquired teenaged orphan, Sabina Wells. "And now," he continued, "now there's fucking demons attacking our kids. You can't tell me that doesn't piss you off."

"It does."

"Then why aren't you on my side of angry?"

Grace pressed her teeth together and closed her blue eyes. "I am," she finally answered. "The problem is that I wanted to keep some of our cover here. I wanted to hold on to some kind of normalcy for them. For us." She crossed the kitchen and approached Dean slowly. "And without sounding too much like The Incredible Hulk," Grace's lips pulled into a wry grin, "now we've seen what I can do when I'm angry."

Dean lifted his eyebrows slightly, returning her smile. "I know," he smiled. "Kinda turns me on."

Automatically, Grace moved closer to Dean and reached for him. Turning to set down his beer, Dean opened his arms to his wife as she curled into his chest. "I don't want to lose our kids," she whispered into his shirt.

Dean swallowed hard, staring across the room. He was silent for a long time, but finally, he took a ragged breath and sighed, "Neither do I."