Monachopsis

Chapter IV: Brothers of Mine

I paced the length of the hotel room anxiously. The fact that anyone could come through the door at any moment put me on edge. John was peering calmly through the window, not paying any attention to my nervous twitching.

"Wouldn't it be easier just to call them?" I asked, turning to him with my arms crossed over my chest.It was a moment before he answered.

"Better they find out I'm here without anyone overhearing," he said. He turned his head to the side just enough for me to see his small smirk. "Didn't peg you as a person of high standing morals."

"Thanks," I sneered, "but it's not my morals I'm worried about. The Winchester boys have a reputation. The last thing I need is for them to, quote, "shoot first and ask questions later"."

John stayed silent and turned back to the window. I stood there for a couple seconds, imagining how many ways a bullet could enter his brain before I shook my head and retreated to the far corner of the room. I drew my dagger and inspected the gleaming silver blade in the moonlight. Then I got bored and went for my pistol, unloading and reloading the magazine, clicking the safety on and off.

After ten minutes of me doing that, John got annoyed and said, "You're gonna shoot your foot off."

I paused and glanced up. "At least then something interesting would happen." But I slid the gun back in it's holster and leaned against the wall. "How long are we gonna have to stand here in the dark? Did they stop for takeout?"

Not a minute after the words left my mouth, there was noises in the hallway outside. Two sets of heavy footsteps coming closer and closer to the door. Despite the odds that it was John's boys, the odds that it wasn't drew my hand to my holster. I flipped the strap, but before I could draw, John held up a staying hand. I clenched my teeth, annoyed at being told to heel, but re-fixed the strap. I flexed my fingers as a pair of voices joined the footsteps.

"Why don't you leave that stuff in the car?" asked a gruff voice.

There was the sound of jangling keys, then another voice, this one softer and not as deep. "I said it before and I'll say it again--better safe than sorry."

A key was inserted into the hotel door and it opened a second later. From my position in the corner, I watched as two young men--one much shorter than the other--sauntered in. Immediately spotting John by the window, the shorter one went on the offense.

"Hey!" he grunted sharply. The light switched on, but I stayed tight in my corner, watching the two men warily. The taller man froze behind his partner, watching warily as John turned calmly to face them.

John's face had--for the first time--a genuine smile curling his lips.

The two men stilled in shock, the silence heavy with disbelief before the taller man choked out a single word, "Dad."

The word hit me with a jolt. Dad. These were my brothers; the famed Sam and Dean Winchester. Seeing them in the flesh after twenty years of hearing nothing but hear-say was nothing more but surreal. As the three men reunited, I was careful to keep my distance. The intimacy of their actions--the heavy air around their embraces--made me feel out of place. Now more than ever, I longed for my mother.

"Boys," said John, breaking me from my thoughts. "There is someone I'd like you to meet."

His dark eyes zeroed in on me. The boys followed his gaze, and their individual sets of eyes settled on my frame, half-hidden in the shadows. Swallowing my gut instinct to bolt for the door, I stepped out into a shaft of moonlight. When I took a step closer, I was made aware for the first time the grisly wounds on their faces. The taller boy's face was marred with bleeding claw-like marks. The other boy was bleeding from a wound at the corner of his eye.

"Dean," John's hand settled heavily on the shoulder of the shorter of the two boys, "Sam," a hand on the shoulder of the taller one, "this is Grace."

"Gray," I corrected quickly. I met John's eyes pointedly. "I go by Gray."

The two of them looked at me in apprehension. Dean--who I knew was the eldest--scanned me from head to foot, green eyes brimmed with wary interest. Sam--the younger--gazed at me with open curiosity, and even offered me a small, professional grin. But despite the lack of open hostility, my body was tensed, bracing for the backlash when the other shoe dropped. And John dropped it.

"She's your sister," he said. There it was. The boys rounded on him, eyeing him with mixtures of disbelief, anger, and betrayal.

Dean was the first to speak. "Our what?"

John sighed and drew away from them, standing between the two of them and me, as if it could save me from the untrusting glares they were stabbing my way. John put both hands up in surrender before Dean could say anything else.

"Right now isn't the time for this discussion, I'll admit," he said, "but with the way this is going, there may not be a right time. Now, Grace--Gray is a hunter. She's skilled; she's lethal. And I need you two to look after her."

"I'm not a toddler, Dad," I snapped. Sam and Dean stared at me with wide eyes, as if neither of them would dare address their father like that. I ignored them and continued, looking only at John. "I don't need babysitters. I can take care of myself."

"I'm not having this argument again," John stated, the finality in his tone cutting off any rebuttal I could think of. "Now, this demon--"

"Dad, it was a trap," Dean said suddenly, his handsome face long with shame. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"That's all right," said John understandingly. "I thought it might have been."

"Were you there?" Dean asked.

"Got there just in time to watch Goldie Locks make a pancake out of herself," I said. Dean's head snapped to look at me. I tried to act nonchalant despite the twisting in my gut. I shrugged and looked away, focusing my attention out the window.

"She was the bad guy, right?" John asked, grinning in amusement.

"Yes sir," droned the boys in unison. The automatic tone of their response startled me. But from what I'd seen about John, it was clear that he was man used to giving orders and expected them to be followed.

"Good," John nodded. "Well, it doesn't surprise me. It's tried to stop me before."

This time, it was Sam who spoke. "The demon has?" he asked, confused.

"It knows I'm close," explained John. "It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it, or send it back to hell, actually kill it."