CHAPTER THREE — THE BEGINNING OF THE END
pilot — part three

"We got work to do." — sam winchester

AFTER GAINING THE INFORMATION THEY NEEDED FROM THE CLERK, IT DIDN'T TAKE THE TRIO LONG TO TRACK DOWN JOHN'S ROOM. Sam, surprisingly, was picking the lock by utilising the picks her Dad always had stashed in a pocket somewhere. Once Grace had seen a trick on the TV, where someone unlocked something with just a bobby pin so she decided to give it a try. As it turned out, as soon as she put the pin in her hair it became lost to her wild brown curls, only to re-emerge hours later when the time of its need had long passed. So, she stopped using them.

The room door swung open, revealing where John had been staying whilst in Jericho. Sam stood up and slyly slid the picks into his pocket. Still exhausted from her long day, Grace leant against the doorframe, her eyelids feeling heavier by the minute. Dean, on the other hand, had his eyes wide open as he kept watch in case anyone came by and witnessed what they were doing. Reaching out, Sam then seized his brother's shoulder and yanked him inside and out of sight before closing the door behind them.

Grace had to admit, the place was a mess. On all four walls, papers, articles, maps and pictures were all pinned and connected together like one large spider's web. Stacks of leather-bound books occupied the desk and every other flat surface in the room. There was so much random stuff on the floor, Grace had almost stepped on something at least twice and she had only entered the room a few seconds prior. The mess continued to the unmade bed where even more lore and assorted items laid strewn on the sheets. Dean switched on the bedside lamp, the light shining on a half-eaten burger still sat on the nightstand. Meanwhile, Sam and Grace were focused on the large circle of salt around the bed, a line of protection, and cautiously tread over it. Dean sniffed the leftover burger before recoiling in disgust and tossing it back where he found it.

The elder of the three coughed. "I don't think he's been here for a couple of days."

"He must have left in a hurry." Grace observed, then frowned with slight concern. "He left all his stuff behind."

Knelt down on the scratchy carpet, Sam reached out for the salt circle and pressed his fingers into it. As he stood up, he noted aloud for them all to hear. "Salts, cats-eye shells... he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in." Well, that wasn't very reassuring.

"He was very worried." Emphasised Grace as she took in her surroundings. It had looked like a tornado had ripped through the place, dropping miscellaneous lore and items wherever it went.

Her Dad was focused on John's mind map, reading through the messy collection of papers. "What have you got there?" Inquired Sam as both him and Gracie made their way to Dean, with Gracie more dragging her feet than walking.

"Centennial Highway victims." Dean informed them. All three Winchesters were studying the wall, looking for any sort of pattern in John's notes. Photos of each victim were pinned up in chronological order, a timeline of Constance's vicious attacks. "I don't get it." Dean continued as they all stared at the photos. "I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

As Grace and Dean pondered his question, Sam was being drawn to another part of the room where all different types of lore were taped together in a giant web. He turned on the lamp, illuminating the pages before he spotted a picture of Constance Welch and more importantly, what was attached to it. "Dad figured it out." He announced. This broke the Father and daughter from their reading, bringing them over to Sam as he explained. "He found the same article we did." Grace called that. "Constance Welch, she's a Woman in White."

Frowning, Grace tried to think back to all the lore her Grandfather had drilled into her. She remembered hearing that name before, but she didn't know much. "Don't they take mean men?" Neither Sam nor Dean had the heart to amend her, so they nodded at her with proud smiles. Grace's tired face then lit up with a small grin at getting the lore right.

Dean turned to the photos on the walls, smirking as he chuckled softly. "You sly dogs." Grace was confused. Turning back to his brother, Dean then began thinking logically. Which, in Sam's opinion, didn't happen often. "All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it."

"She might have another weakness." Suggested Sam and Grace nodded in agreement.

"Not all ghosts are connected to their bodies."

"No, Dad would want to make sure." He shook his head and then made his way to his brother's side whilst Grace remained where she was, leaning her weary body against a cabinet. "He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?"

Sam sighed heavily as he read through the information in front of him. "No, not that I can tell. If I were Dad, though, I'd ask her husband." He tapped the photo of Joseph Welch that was stuck in John Winchester's mental web. "If he's still alive."

Dean was still looking at what his Dad had up about women in white whilst Sam started to move away to continue to search the room for anything useful. And Grace, sensing that they were done with the case for the moment, made a beeline for the bed, allowing her drained body to hit the mattress.

Nodding, Dean then said. "All right. Why don't you, uh, see if you can find an address. I'm gonna get cleaned up." He started to head towards the bathroom, only for Sam to speak up and stop him in his tracks.

"Hey, Dean?" Dean glanced back at his brother who sighed. "What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry."

Holding up his hand, Dean prevented Sam from continuing. "No chick-flick moments." He insisted with a small smile.

Sam let out a laugh as he nodded. "All right, Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Stupid faces." Grace added with a giggle.

Dean then turned, going into the bathroom, as Sam continued to comb through what his Father left behind. Rubbing her eyes, Grace made herself more comfortable on the bed and once her head made contact with the pillow, she was out like a light. Quickly slipping into a deep sleep where her nightmares always followed.

It wasn't long after he adopted Grace that he awoke one night to her screaming the motel room down. He wrapped his arms around her thrashing form to try and calm her before she woke up abruptly, eyes full of fear. Once she was breathing normally again and her tears had dried, he had asked her whether she had had a bad dream. She then asked him 'What is a good dream?' and he told her. That was when she came to the conclusion that she hadn't had a good dream for as long as she could remember, and she still hadn't. Her unconscious mind was plagued with terrifying visions and images of pain that no one, especially not a child, should ever see. By now, she was used to it so it doesn't bother her as much as it used to.

Once Dean had exited the bathroom, finally clean from all the river muck, he picked up his jacket and shrugged it on. He glanced over and smiled at the sight of Grace, looking peaceful in her sleep, having no idea how bad her dreams could really get. Strolling over to the bed, he picked up the corner of the cover and pulled it over her so she was now sandwiched between two layers of duvet. Sam watched curiously, not used to seeing his brother this way despite it appearing natural to him.

Dean then crossed the room and Sam quickly returned his gaze, pretending he hadn't just been staring at his brother. "Hey man, I'm starving. I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. I'll bring Gracie back something, so do you want anything too?" Sam declined. "Aframian's buying."

Sam declined yet again then Dean left the room, closing the door behind them.

ONE MINUTE GRACE WAS PUTTING HER HEAD DOWN ON A PILLOW AND THE NEXT SHE WAS BEING AWOKEN BY SOMEONE HASTILY SHAKING HER SHOULDER. It was her Uncle Sam, telling her that they had to get out of there and fast. Apparently the cops were outside and they had her Dad. Neither of those things sounded good. Despite her nap, Grace was still exhausted and trudged whilst being half-dragged by her Uncle to the Impala.

Upon waking his niece up, Sam quickly noticed the prominent fear in her eyes but he had no idea why. As always, Grace's time asleep was not uneventful. Horrific and bloody images were pushed into her mind, infecting her thoughts. She had to watch helplessly as Constance savagely killed those men and then Grace witnessed something no one knew about. She saw where Constance had taken the bodies. Because people don't just disappear, there are always traces to be found. Now Grace knew where to look.

She didn't say a thing as her Uncle ushered her out of the motel room and towards the Impala. She didn't say a thing as he left her in the car whilst he visited Joesph Welch. In fact, by that point she had fallen back asleep on the leather seats where she knew Constance was waiting for her in her dreams. She did, however, manage to awake in time to hear her Uncle Sam tell the poor widower about a Woman in White. He certainly wasn't happy with what Sam had to say and soon left.

Then the two Winchesters were on the road again.

Dean had been gone for hours, trapped at the Jericho police station where they couldn't reach him. And Sam wasn't as oblivious as Grace thought because he had noticed the change in the young girl, but he wasn't Dean, he didn't know her like he did. He kept glancing at her worriedly as she quietly stared out of the window and into the nighttime world. Barely a word all day and from what he could tell, she was usually a bright and bubbly character.

Sam decided to break their long silence and speak up. "Grace, are you alright?" She didn't turn to face him and instead kept gazing out at the woods lining the road. "I know I'm not Dean, but I'm your Uncle, you can talk to me." Still, she remained unmoving. "Whatever's going on, I'm willing to listen."

Finally Grace tore her eyes from the glass. She stared at her Uncle from the passenger seat and fiddled with her way too long sleeves anxiously. Was she really about to tell him? Sure, he was her Uncle, but he was going back to Stanford and then it'll be god knows how long before they see each other next. Was it really worth telling him? Grace took a deep breath as she contemplated her decision in her mind and then decided. Sam was her Uncle, he was family, he would be okay with it. Hopefully.

"I know where the bodies of Constance's victims are." She announced. Sam's eyes almost bulged out of his skull at her words. He was sure he had heard her correctly but didn't understand what she had said. How could she know?

Sam raised his eyebrow suspiciously, keeping one eye on the road at all times. "You know where the bodies are?" Grace nodded shyly. "How?"

She tried to hide her face but Sam could see what he could only interpret as shame written across her features. "I dreamt it." Grace admitted, not daring to look at her Uncle in fear of what she would see. "I dream about these things a lot."

"You have visions?" Queried the youngest Winchester brother and Grace nodded again. "You're psychic?"

"Please don't be scared."

Sam's heart broke. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her lip trembling in fear, she was obviously trying to keep back her tears but the dam was cracking and soon they would fall uncontrollably. She truly believed that he was scared of her. But if anything, he was scared for her.

Sam shook his head adamantly. "No, I'm not scared of you. Why would you think that?"

"Because people are normally scared of me." She replied, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging them tightly.

Sam's face faltered slightly before he plastered on what he hoped to be a comforting smile. "Well, I'm not normal people." He swore he saw the edge of her lips turn upwards at his words. "Hey, Gracie." She turned to face him. "If you ever need to talk to anyone, just steal your Dad's phone and call me, okay. I'll listen." Now that made Grace smile.

The girl nodded in understanding, trying to keep the recently returned smile to stay on her face. Sam kept his eyes on the road and felt his heart sink, because he too knew what it was like to see things you know no one else would believe. Things other people would just call your nightmares. But as the Winchesters already knew, nightmares had a habit of coming true.

"Well, if we're going to stop the woman in white, we're going to have to get Dean out of prison." Sam thought aloud, changing the subject, and Grace agreed with him. They couldn't go after Constance alone. He then turned to his niece. "Any ideas on how we can spring him from jail?"

A mischievous grin spread across her lips. Oh, she most certainly had an idea.

Slightly later that evening, after following Grace's plan, her Uncle's phone started to ring. After talking about her psychic abilities with him, she felt much calmer, much safer. And being accepted by her new relative for the way she was, that made her happy beyond belief. Because John Winchester, her Grandfather, was still slightly uneasy around the girl and her Dad, he could never know how bad it actually got, because she knew it would hurt him.

Sam exchanged a look with Grace, because they both knew who was ringing. So, the former picked up his phone and answered, then placing it on speaker for them both to hear.

"Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal." Hearing her Dad's voice filled her with relief and she smiled.

Sam chuckled before responding. "Actually that was Gracie's idea."

"I taught her well." Sam could practically hear his brother's smug smile.

Grace took the phone from her Uncle's spare hand. "You're welcome, Dad."

"Yeah, thanks Pumpkin." He said and the use of her nickname finally put to rest all the anxiety and pain she had been feeling since she woke up. "Listen, the three of us, we gotta talk."

"Tell us about it." Sam sighed. He then began to recite all the information he had gathered that day whilst Dean was busy chatting with the local law enforcement. "So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house," Grace turned to see her Uncle glancing at her as he said that, having been told just a few minutes prior that the bodies of Constance's victims were also buried there, next to their killer. "so that should have been Dad's next stop."

"Sammy, would you shut up for a second?" Dean tried to silence him, but it didn't work.

"I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet." The brunette mused and he was right, it didn't make much sense.

"Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you." Dean spoke up before Sam had the chance to say anything else. His words caused Grace and Sam go frown. "He's gone. Dad left Jericho."

Staring down at the device in her hands, Grace asked. "How do you know, Dad?"

Dean replied with a heavy sigh. "I've got his journal."

Grace furrowed her eyebrows, because it didn't make sense. How could he be gone when his journal was still here? She knew her Grandfather enough to know he didn't like to go anywhere without it. "He doesn't go anywhere without it."

"Yeah, well, he did this time."

"What's it say?" Sam inquired curiously, almost desperately.

"Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going." He replied with a small groan. Grace didn't know what he was talking about, but luckily, by the look on her Uncle's face, he did.

Sighing in disbelief, Sam then stated. "Coordinates. Where to?"

Dean admitted. "I'm not sure yet."

"I don't understand." Continued her Uncle. Grace was barely holding onto the phone for something was coming, she could sense it. Her gaze was captivated by the empty open road in front of them and she couldn't escape the feeling that they were being watched. "I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in a middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on?"

That was when Grace saw her. Standing there in the middle of the road, illuminated by the headlights: Constance Welch.

"Uncle Sam!" Grace cried out. "Watch out!"

He slammed the brakes, causing the seatbelt to dig harshly into Grace's chest as her Uncle's phone slipped from her hands and onto the floor. Despite breaking, the car still sailed through Constance's non-physical form as the Impala came to a halt. Grace groaned quietly at the sudden soreness in her chest.

On speaker in the footwell, her Dad's voice could still be heard. "Gracie? Sam? Grace! Sammy!"

The two were breathing heavily, having been just startled by the spirit they were hunting. Grace felt a chill on the back of her neck and despite the dull throbbing in her body, she turned to look at the backseat. And just as she suspected and dreaded, she was met by the pale, sunken face of Constance Welch.

"Take me home." She demanded.

Grace narrowed her eyes at the woman, because despite having seen first-hand the horror she could inflict, she wasn't afraid to stand up against her. Which didn't mean she wasn't scared in general, because she was terrified. "We don't give rude people lifts home."

Sam couldn't help but admire her bravery. But clearly, Constance wasn't too pleased with her response. Instantly, all the doors locked and no matter how hard the Winchesters tugged, they wouldn't open. Constance had them trapped, in their own car. Sam reached out for his niece on instinct, grabbing her hand as the gas pedal beneath him suddenly hit the floor. Baby was under her control yet again. Dean wasn't going to like that.

Under her influence, the black Chevy Impala raced down the highway and nothing Sam nor Grace could do would stop it. Grace whipped around to glare at Constance, only to find her projection flickering. This wasn't good. Not in the slightest.

BRECKENRIDGE ROAD

GRACE FELT SICK.

The Impala, on Constance's orders, had taken them to an old abandoned house on Breckenridge Road. But Grace had seen this house before, this was the Welch house. It was where Constance had drowned her children, where she was buried and where she had hidden the bodies of the mean men she had killed. The very same bodies she had seen in her sleep hours ago. Seeing it was one thing, but being there was another.

After pulling up in front of the old, rundown home, the Impala stopped. And without even touching the car, the engine switched off and the lights that were shining upon the haunted home went along with it. Grace had the urge to run. But she was a Winchester and when people's lives were in danger, Winchesters don't run.

"Don't do this." Sam begged the spirit, hoping to get through to any human part that still remained.

Constance's ghostly formed flickered again. "I can never go home." She told them and Grace couldn't help but notice the sadness in her tone.

But before Grace could do anything, ask anything, her side door was suddenly blasted open by an unknown force. She felt something grab her around the waist, snapping the seatbelt before yanking her out of the vehicle. Grace could hear her Uncle shouting her name, but he was trapped inside the car, unable to do anything. It wasn't a comfortable landing, but Grace had had worse.

Twigs and leaves were now trapped in her messy hair and a thin layer of mud coated her jeans. Grace's knees almost buckled as she got to feet, but she still ran towards the car. She slammed her hand against the glass, tugging at the handle which wouldn't budge. Constance was attacking her Uncle and she was unable to do anything. The nine-year-old planted her boots firmly on the ground before tugging the door with all her might, but it didn't work.

Grace wasn't sure how she would put into words what she felt. Maybe like a gust of wind? Or a sharp pull in her stomach? Well, what she did know was that something, or someone, was calling her to the house. Rubbing her bloody scrapes on her flannel sleeves, Grace looked away from her Uncle to stare at the house. Sam's screams scratched her ears but she still remained focused on the house. At first she didn't see it, but then she did and she realised what had been happening. Because in the upstairs window, that no one else could see, were the figures of two small children, the Welch children, staring down at her.

BANG!

A  gunshot brought the girl from her trance. Glass shattering and the end of her Uncle's screams was like music to her ears and when she saw her Dad, holding a shotgun tightly in his hands, that just made everything better. He kept on firing until the spirit vanished from sight, allowing Sam the time to sit back up in the driver's seat.

"Uncle Sam!" Grace shouted and he whipped around to look in her direction. "Drive!"

And he did just that.

Dean rushed over to Grace and grabbed her hand tightly in his own before the two ran after Sam and the Impala. Even though neither of them said it, they both knew the other was relieved to see them. Their car had gone straight into the house, smashing through the wall to get inside. It seemed Sam had cottoned on to her thinking, because otherwise, she was doubtful he would have done what she said. However, Dean remained clueless as to why his brother just drove his car through a wall.

Dean pushed through the wreckage to get to his brother and with Grace's help they managed to shift the debris away from the door. "Sam! Sam! You okay?"

"I think..." Sam let out a small groan.

Dean, launching into caring big-brother mode, asked in concern as he looked the younger man over. "Can you move?"

"Yeah." He groaned again in discomfort causing Grace to look at him worriedly. The girl looked down shamefully, because she had turned away from her Uncle when he needed her. Maybe she could have done something, anything, to get Constance away from him. "Help me?"

Leaning through the car window, Dean grabbed his brother by the hand and heaved him out of the car. Grace helped too whilst watching Constance out of the corner of her eye, paranoid of what she was going to do next. Once Sam was out of the car, the man brought his niece into a hug and held her close. He had seen the fear on her face as she pounded against the window whilst being unable to open the door. But he was alright now, and he wanted her to know that. Grace immediately melted into the embrace and hugged her Uncle back.

Dean shut the car door as the other two disconnected from their hug. Side by side, the Winchesters turned to face Constance. This had to end.

She glared at the trio with utter fury before tossing away the photo frame she previously had in her grasp. All of a sudden, the bureau was sent across the room and straight towards them. It pinned them to the car, pushing forcefully against their bodies. The wind, the tug, she could feel it again, but this time it was much stronger. Lights flickered randomly and water began to trickle down the stairs. Constance knew what was happening and she was afraid.

Cautiously, she approached the watery stairs and from the bottom she could see two small figures stood at the very top, looking down at her. Eerily, they spoke in sync. "You've come home to us, Mommy."

Constance looked at her children with such guilt and distress, because she remembered. She remembered what she did to them all those years ago. Then, they vanished, only to reappear behind her. Grace was too focused on the scene in front of her to care about the large piece of wood pressing against her ribs; she was in pain, but what she realised was that not all of it was her own. Like waves, strong emotion rolled off the ghosts, there was so much it was like she was drowning. Whether the kids wanted revenge or just to have their Mother back, Grace didn't know. What she did know was that they really wanted it.

The Welch children wrapped their ghostly arms around their Mother and she let out a shrill scream. Her image continued to flicker, probably even more so than before. Then, with a large surge of energy that hit Grace right in the core, Constance and her two children melted into the floor, hopefully to never be seen again.

Grace relaxed as the overwhelming feeling from the Welch family subsided, which still left the bureau pressing against her, her Dad and her Uncle. But together, with one large push, they shoved the bureau from their bodies and made their way to where the ghostly family had vanished. She was so tempted to touch the puddle, but stopped herself. "They melted like that evil green witch from that old movie."

Sam frowned and glanced at Grace. "You mean 'The Wizard of Oz'?"

The girl nodded. "Yeah, that one. Me and Dad watched it once whilst Grandpa John was out. I liked the girl's sparkly shoes." Dean smiled fondly at the memory. Grace was eight at the time and once she said she liked Dorothy's slippers, he went out and came back with some glue and red glitter to make their own. John wasn't happy about the sparkly mess when he came back.

Dean's face faltered. "You're right, Grace. So, this is where she drowned her kids."

"That's why she could never go home." Grace explained as she tried to shut out the pain she was feeling from the creaky house after the ghosts had left. "She killed her children. Seeing them like this would be accepting what she had done and she couldn't bear that."

"You found her weak spot." Sam pointed out. He had figured it out too, but Grace had given him the final clue. So, in Sam's opinion, she deserved the credit.

Dean nodded in agreement. "Nice work, Gracie." He didn't want to admit it, but Dean was frightened. His daughter was nine and she was already an excellent hunter, there was no telling how she'll be in five, ten years down the line. And honestly, Dean didn't want to think about it.

A slap was sent to Sam's chest, hitting the injury Constance gave him. Sam laughed through the pain as Grace cringed. "Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?" Grace chuckled.

"Hey. Saved your ass." Dean leaned over to examine his Baby, making sure there was there was no damage. "I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?" He spun around to stare down his little brother, "I'll kill you."

Sam and Grace laughed heartily. Everything was back to normal. It was finally over.

THE WINCHESTERS WERE OUT OF JERICHO AS FAST AS YOU COULD SAY 'GHOSTBUSTERS!'. Upon Grace's request, they called the authorities once they were far enough way from the town to give an anonymous tip concerning the disappearance of Troy Squire. And if they were to dig further, they would find the means to closing the majority of their missing persons cases from over the past few decades. Now the trio were back in the Impala, zooming down the highway with one headlight out. So, it appeared Sam had damaged Baby after all. Her Dad hadn't attacked yet, so maybe he was bidding his time.

Gracie leant forwards in her seat to watch Sam fiddle with a map. Apparently he was using the coordinates left in John's journal to try and figure out where he had gone next. Grace held the flashlight as Sam used a ruler and pencil to pinpoint his Dad's most recent message. "Okay, here's where Dad went." Announced Sam. "It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado." Grinning, Grace looked at her Uncle, amazed with what he had just done.

Dean nodded before following with a sarcastic comment. "Sounds charming. How far?"

"About six hundred miles."

"Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning." Dean did the math in his head and suggested.

Pausing, Sam then sighed. "Dean, I, um..." He still wanted to return for his interview and Grace couldn't blame him.

"You're not going." Dean realised.

"The interview's in like, ten hours." Sam tried to remind his brother. "I gotta be there."

Returning his gaze to the road, Dean nodded and did his best to hide his disappointment. But Grace and Sam could read him like a wide open children's book. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He glanced at his brother. "I'll take you home." Grace then put away the torch and the trio continued their journey, mostly in silence.

A few hours later, they arrived outside Sam's apartment building back at Stanford. Dean pulled the Impala right up by the door, frowning as his brother exited the vehicle. Once out, he leaned over to look through the window and asked. "Call me if you find him?" Dean and Grace both nodded. "And maybe I can meet up with the two of you later, huh?" Suddenly, Gracie threw open the car door and launched herself at her Uncle and held him tight. He instantly retuned the hug and smiled down at her. "You look after Dean, okay?"

"Of course." She smiled bittersweetly. "Good luck on your interview. You'll do great."

Sam nodded gratefully before ruffling her hair, only to find that when he withdrew his hand there was a small leaf attached to it. The man laughed. "Thanks, Gracie."

"Grace, come on." She glanced back at her Father before wishing her Uncle goodbye and hopping back into their Chevy Impala. They watched as Sam went to leave but Dean called out. "Sam?" The man in question turned back around, "You know, we made a hell of a team back there."

"Yeah." Sam smiled, thinking back at their adventure together. It certainly had been something.

Slowly, the Impala pulled away from the curb and started down the road with Grace waving at her Uncle until he became a speck in the distance. She missed him already. There was not a word said between the father and daughter, they remained in silence, not one of them daring to speak. Grace pulled at her flannel shirt and twisted with the cuffs. What were they going to do now? Try and track down John, pretending that this hadn't happened? Honestly, neither of them knew.

The girl stared out of the window at the night sky and hoped to see some stars. Then it was as if someone had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart. Eyes bulging, she doubled over, panting heavily. She could feel it. The pain, the fear, everything.

Dean spun back in alarm. "Gracie! What's wrong?"

"We have to turn back." She panted out, clutching her chest as pain coursed through her body. "Something's not right." Dean immediately spun the car around and the tyres screeched against the concrete road.

He kept checking on Grace in the rear-view mirror worriedly, only to find her condition the same. He was helpless. His daughter was in pain and there was nothing he could do to stop it. And that, that made him angry. Upon reaching Sam's apartment, Dean jumped out of the car and ran inside. Gracie remained in the Impala, lying on her side, tears soaking the leather seats. She knew exactly what was happening. Because she didn't just feel pain, she could feel heat. Unbearable heat. The same kind of heat she felt the moment she touched Jess' hand. She knew and she said nothing and now Jess was most likely gone. It was her fault.

Orange light illuminated the dark sky like a beacon and Grace let out a body-racking sob in the shadows of the car below. Jessica Moore was gone, she could feel that much now. Screams and cries from her Uncle drew closer and closer until they reached the Impala. Dean was holding his brother in his arms after having to drag him away from the inferno. There was no comforting Sam Winchester after what he had just witnessed, so Dean just held onto his brother with everything he had and hoped it was enough.

It didn't take the fire brigade long to arrive to fight the blaze, but by then the Winchesters were across the street and away from the chaos. Grace was leaning against the car with her Dad's jacket wrapped around her small shoulders and her cheeks still stained with tears. Sam was busying himself with the trunk which occupied his mind so it wouldn't go to the place he didn't want to return to. Dean made his way back over to the car and glanced between his family worriedly. One was distraught and the other angry beyond belief.

Sam sighed and tossed the shotgun he had just loaded into the trunk. He grabbed the lid and glared harshly. "We got work to do."

Chapter three is out!!! And with that, the pilot is complete!!! It has begun!!!

So Grace having visions about what Constance did with the bodies was actually pretty cool to come up with. I always wondered what had happened to them, because I don't think they simply just disappear. The reason Constance is a woman in white is tied to the house, it's where it all began, so I thought that it would be the place where she would take the bodies. And no one would find them because no one goes there anymore due to what happened to her and her children. Also, I like seeing more and more of Grace's psychic side. Or is that just me?

And Grace, baby, Jess's death wasn't your fault. I just want to hug this child. Sure, she felt something when she first met Jess, but she couldn't have known this would happen.

So, I'm curious, now that the first episode is done, what do you think of this book so far? Any future theories? Any questions? I'll be happy to hear anything from anyone.

Me, Dean and Sam aka the founders of the Grace Winchester Protection Squad. We also have a sign up form.
(privileges include: protecting this adorable baby and kicking the asses of anyone who hurts her)

If you would like to join the squad, sign here —

I love writing for this book, so, let's get chapter four on the road, shall we?

Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Hopefully, I'll see you in the next chapter.

Sincerely Rosie aka Winter326