A/N: Welcome to yet another fanfiction.
Isidore tapped her fingers in an anxious rhythm on the wooden table between the red seating of the booth. She tried desperately to ignore the endless shaking that ran from her shoulders to her fingertips; mourning the fact that she'd waited until she got into Jericho, California to get any caffeine into her system. If anyone suggested an addiction she would have denied it, but she was fairly certain the nonstop caffeine intake proved any protests wrong. When the waitress sat down the mug of coffee, Isidore smiled thankfully for only a short moment, quick to take a long sip of the black coffee. The relieving feeling of caffeine intake far surpassing any disdain she had toward the burning sensation on her tongue.
"Still haven't shaken the caffeine addiction, I see." An enthusiastic voice said from behind the booth. Isidore turned her entire body, the smiling face of Emillyn- baby faced with lovely, round cheeks covered in freckles- warming Isidore more than the coffee.
"Never." Isidore assured in her thick French accent, lifting herself up from the booth seat and immediately finding herself engulfed in a tight hug from the happy girl. Isidore had never really met someone so happy to touch till she met Emillyn, she had the kind of embrace that made the feeling of love spread over you slowly as if it were a contagious symptom to be caught.
"You changed your hair." Isidore noted as the two girls pulled away from each other, taking seats across from one another at the booth. Emillyn's curly blonde hair was cut to her shoulders now rather than past her chest as it had been before. Isidore liked the way the cut shaped itself around her pale skin.
"Yeah, hunting makes long hair such a hassle. I'd been meaning to cut it forever" Emillyn shrugged, looking as carefree as ever. Isidore reached back, feeling her own long, dark locks currently encased in a thick ponytail- the girl had a good point.
Emillyn ordered a large breakfast with rather complicated instructions while Isidore asked for a refill of the coffee she'd already downed. Once the plates of food and coffee pot had been settled down on the table, Emillyn tilted her head up from a large bite of pancakes, "So- you know anything about this case?"
Isidore shook her head, linking her fingers around the warmth of the mug. She stared at the vague reflection she could see within in the coal black coffee- even in the reflection of a drink she could see the large, purple circles underneath her eyes. "Not anymore than you, I'm afraid." she spoke finally, "Multiple male victims whose bodies can't be found and a claim of a ghost story."
Emillyn took another large bite, Isidore wondered to herself how such a small girl could fit such a big bite in her mouth. "Luckily, ghost are our specialty." She said with a confident grin around the silver fork. Isidore wasn't nearly as sure that 'specialty' was the right word; they'd both only been doing this for roughly a year, but it was hard to make any attempt to argue with the level of optimism Emillyn brought to the table.
"If we hurry, I think I saw the officers heading for the scene. We could talk to them." Isidore offered, though she wasn't very pleased with the idea of leaving her coffee behind. She kicked herself for not bringing a portable cup like the tall, dark blue one Emillyn kept sipping from.
"He's young enough that we could play friend of the victim." Emillyn agreed, quickening her already rather fast eating pace.
Isidore savored a long drink from the mug, finishing it off as Emillyn stood and stretched, "Let's go meet those cops and do their job for them." she teased.
Isidore chuckled softly at the comment, though she felt bad for it. The police did a well enough job up until it came to the issue of race or the supernatural.
When they got to the bridge the accident had occurred on, sure enough the town sheriff had arrived on scene. The sheriff stood with another officer, talking far too casually considering the scene behind them- though Isidore supposed treating death so casually was a skill learned with time. Behind their parked police car, Isidore saw a silver car that looked as if it had been crushed with large hands, blood soaking between the cracks in the glass.
Even further beyond the horrific scene, on the opposite side of the bridge, Isidore could just barely make out two men crossing their way over toward the officers. Isidore nudged Emillyn, making their presence known. Emillyn grabbed onto Isidore with both hands, leading cross the bridge and over to the sheriff.
One of the two men opened his mouth to speak, but Emillyn interjected before he could get a single word out, "Sheriff, please!" She yelled, Isidore was taken aback by how realistic her panic sounded, "That's our friend!"
As Emillyn kept the sheriff's attention, Isidore looked over the two men. The taller, dark haired one had a seemingly permanent frown on his face and dark, puppy dog eyes that could melt the coldest heart. The glance that she took at the other man was quick, flustered by the twinkling green eyes and mischievous grin- something about him seemed so painfully familiar that she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Luckily, he didn't seem to feel the same way, instead his attention seemed to stick to Emillyn's (no surprise, Isidore was certain that Emillyn could draw the attention of a crowd off of a broadway musical) as the taller boy's did, though rather than annoyance his face displayed amusement.
Isidore snapped out of her observations when Emillyn's voice as replaced by one of the mystery men- the puppy dog eyed one. "Excuse me, officer." he managed to cut in, not bothering to look at Emillyn as he spoke, "We're US Marshals."
Emillyn raised a disbelieving eyebrow, "Marshals? Aren't you a little young?" she inquired before the officer had a chance to, he was obviously thinking the same thing though judging by the way he nodded dumbly along with her statement. Both waited expectantly for an answer and while Isidore was trying hard to focus all her attention on the taller boy, she couldn't stop herself from trailing her eyes over the other one. She knew him- she knew she did. He caught her glance and a flick of a smile played on his lips- playful. Isidore felt her cheeks heat up almost immediately.
It was the same smaller, green eyed man that spoke and Isidore focused her vision on the middle of his forehead so she didn't have to meet his look. "That's awfully kind of you, ma'am. But we are, in fact, Marshals." he spoke with so much confidence that every indicating factor that they were lying seemed to be thrown out the window- though they were lying, Isidore was certain of that. Not that she and Emillyn were any better on that front.
The officer, however, seemed taken by their charm, "Troy Squire, a popular boy." he looked to Emillyn and Isidore, seeming to expect something indicating he was right from the 'friends' of the victim. Isidore nodded solemnly and Emillyn was a good enough actress that Isidore thought she might actually put out some tears for the role. Emillyn had mentioned high school, once, maybe she'd been in a drama program. "All that's left behind is his car and no other whereabouts. Amy, his girlfriend, is putting up signs. She thinks he's alive."
"Poor Amy always was an optimist." Emillyn sniffled. There were the tears, Isidore almost thought she wouldn't be able to suppress a small smile.
"She mentioned a ghost story." Isidore added softly, the US Marshals seemed to perk up at this. She wasn't sure if this was due to the mention of the supernatural or the fact that her accent always muffled what she was saying worse than her quiet tone of voice did. But she'd talked to a few girls chattering outside the diner briefly and figured the information was valuable to at least she and Emillyn, "A woman died on this highway bridge, right?"
The officer seemed to lose a bit of tension at this, laughing, "Well, we'll make sure to add a ghost to our suspect list." he joked. Emillyn laughed along, but Isidore couldn't shake the seriousness of her face. She noticed the puppy dog eyed boy had the same obvious tension on his own face.
Emillyn set her hand on Isidore's wrist, indicating that it was time they made an excuse to go. Isidore set her free hand over Emillyn's, smiling at the officer, "Thank you for the time, sir."
Emillyn nodded, "Really, with you out there, I know the bastard who did this to Troy doesn't stand a chance." she thanked, though her voice sounded the most fake it had been since the conversation started. Isidore figured annoyance had sprouted once again for the lack of seriousness the officers were treating this situation with.
As the officer bid farewell to the two girls, they turned away, making their way across the bridge. They'd almost made it off, before one of the men called for them to wait. Isidore wanted to keep moving, but Emillyn seemed willing to play along and the two spun in their direction.
"You were friends of the victim, right? Can I ask a few questions?" the green eyed one spoke, his voice was smooth. The taller one, however, seemed to share Isidore's discomfort for the conversation.
"'Were'?" Emillyn repeated back, once again amazing Isidore with her ability to play a character so well, "They haven't found him yet, sir." she noted, emphasizing the word with disbelief, "He could be out there."
"Did you see that car?" it was the taller boy's turn to talk, "What do you think? That he got up and walked away from that?" his eyes turned to Isidore, and Isidore figured he suspected her to be the weak link.
Feeling pressured to answer, Isidore spoke up, trying to keep her accent handled. "There are other options." she stated simply.
"Where's that accent from, sweetheart? You certainly don't sound like some California chick." The green eyed boy questioned.
Isidore felt Emillyn's grip on her wrist tighten protectively- she always surprised by how strong of a grip the girl had, "Her parents moved here from France a few years ago, job opportunity." she hissed, frowning at the two boys, "We better get going." she said pointedly, smiling in farewell and leading Isidore off the scene.
After roughly an hour of staring at a screen in the library, Isidore was beginning to feel the desperate need for caffeine come back to her. On the computer beside her, Emillyn was half asleep on the keyboard, head nestled between folded arms. Isidore struggled to shift through articles, but reading English was not her strong suit and she couldn't even think of the English words for what she was thinking. She'd only been in America a little over a year.
Emillyn's head sprung up suddenly, causing Isidore to jump.
"We need move to the other side." Emillyn stated, making no further sound to explain.
"The other- what?" Isidore asked, rubbing her face in confusion. She felt like she'd just been awakened from a deep trance. She didn't get an answer before Emillyn yanked her up, still not giving a single hint of indication as to why. Together, they moved to the opposite facing line of computers, ducking their heads.
"Emi, I do not believe the research will be any better-" Isidore began to whisper.
Emillyn shushed her, nodding her head toward the direction of the computers they'd only just been sitting at. The two men from earlier lowered themselves into the looked at Emillyn, obvious surprise written on her features. She didn't dare to speak but was fairly certain the question 'How could you possibly have heard them?' was quite obvious.
Emillyn just shrugged and Isidore just figured she needed to deal with the fact that she wouldn't be getting any answers. Instead the two listened carefully as the men quickly fell into a state of bickering with one another about the circumstances of Troy's death.
"Dean, just look up the history surrounding the bridge." The taller boy insisted, obvious annoyance in his tone. "You'll make this so much easier."
"I know how to research, Sammy. I've been doing this on my own while you were playing college boy- remember?"
"Then why'd you ask for my help on this damn case?" Isidore heard the sound of shoving and the other voice, Dean, murmuring 'fucking control freak'.
"You know damn well why I asked you for help and it has nothing to do with some teenage boy killed in a car."
"Maybe we should leave this case alone, then. Focus on the problem at hand."
"Leave the case? Oh, sure. And then how many more people die? That's on us. No one else has half a brain around here to solve this case and the angry spirit gets to stay fat and happy killing off whoever they damn well please."
Emillyn and Isidore shared knowing looks- these two were here for the same reason they were. They had to be. Isidore found herself caught on the 'problem at hand' buisness, wondering what exactly they had meant by it- the puppy eyed boy (Sammy?) had taken a deeply serious tone when he'd mention it. They both had. Maybe it was a personal case, the Lord knew those cases were the worst for hunters.
In her thinking Isidore had just barely registered the flash of a smile from Emillyn directed toward Isidore- the famous 'I have a crazy idea that's probably going to get us in trouble' smile. Before Isidore could adjust enough to ask Emillyn about it (or talk her down from it) she was back around the tables, face to face with the men. A glowing smile on her face.
"Having trouble with somethin', Marshals?" Emillyn teased in a drawl, the two looking very taken aback by this- she always knew how to make an entrance. "You sound awfully worked up. Do US Marshals always do their work in a library? Because I'm pretty sure this land of research is reserved for hunters who actually want to get a job done."
"Emillyn!" Isidore gasped out. She ignored the horrified 'I can't believe you just used my full name' expression she got from Emillyn and returned it with an even more horrified 'you can't just tell people things like this' look. Not people about your profession as a hunter had always been an obvious, unspoken rule. And while it was obvious these two were well in tuned with the hunting lifestyle as well- it didn't look very good upon the girls' reputations if they were willing to blab it out with no consideration like this.
The tall boy looked to the green eyed one- they seemed to have an entire conversation within a five second glance and the glance quickly faded into a loud laughter than would make anyone believe they'd just been proxy to the best joke they'd ever heard.
"Well Dean, we don't need to worry about this case now. It's in very capable hands." The dark haired boy said, grinning- Isidore could see dimples in his cheeks. She noted that this was the first time she'd seen the taller boy not looking so solemn and serious as he tucked his hands behind his head and leaned back in the computer chair.
"You're right, Sam, these two girls got it covered. They'll just walk around a library like the own the place or some shit because they're hunters." Dean's green eyes flickered toward the two of them, an amused smile forming on his lips, "Good choice, by the way, blabbin' about being hunters like that. Amateurs."
Emillyn rolled her eyes, seeming to brush off the comment as if it was nothing. Isidore, however, simmered in the harsh words. She couldn't afford to make herself known to too many- that could have consequences that she was in no way ready to face. "Are we going to work together on this or not?" Emillyn asked as if this was the obvious solution.
Dean snorted, "Work together? No thanks, you'll get us killed."
"Well if you're so worried about being killed than you can leave the case to us. 'Imminent death' is kind of in the job description, don't you think?" she stated simply, a grin plastered to her face. Isidore wondered where she got all that confidence from.
"You're not doing this alone! How old are you anyway? You look twelve!"
"I'm twenty, not that it matters. And I don't understand, do you want us to do it alone or with you?"
"Sh!" a librarian spat from a few feet away. This did nothing to quell the bickering, but at least the two lowered their volume.
Isidore sighed softly, wandering around the two who were so caught up in their arguing that they didn't seem to notice at all. She settled herself in the chair beside Sam who was ignoring the two in favor of researching the mystery of the missing boys. An amused smile still found its way on his lips, though. She wondered if he found it nice to listen to someone else fight with Dean aside from himself
Sam leaned forward on his chair when his eyes laid on an article 'Bridge Suicide'. The article turned out to be about a woman named Constance Welch who had jumped off the bridge Troy Squire's car had been found on after her kids had drowned within a bathtub (Isidore felt her heart clench at the story).
"That poor girl..." Isidore whispered softly, she hadn't even meant to speak out loud.
Sam jumped, only just now aware of her presence behind him. "How- How long have you been sitting there?"
"Long enough to read the story over your shoulder- I apologize." she said, rubbing her arm. "But the bridge, in the story-"
"It's the same one, yeah." Sam confirmed, "We need to go back to it." He turned to Emillyn and Dean, "You two stop arguing like children. C'mon."
"We're taking them with us?" Dean complained, looking at Sam desperately.
"They're going to work on the case anyway, Dean, we may as well cover more ground." Sam said, standing from the chair and heading out of the library without another word. Isidore shot an apologetic glance at Dean before following behind Sam quickly. She wasn't certain she minded having a bigger group on a case like this.
Emillyn shrugged, obviously proud to have gotten her way with the cocky smile that was on her lips. Dean rolled his eyes, but eventually trudged behind.
"Woah! Is that your car?" Emillyn gasped when they hit the light of the outside world. Parked directly outside of the library was a sleek, black car with a vintage, mint condition look to it."I've only dreamed of cars like this, they look nothing like the ones I've stolen to get around. I call shotgun!" she called.
"No. You don't." Sam said, shoving the smaller girl out of the way with ease. Sam easily had over a foot on Emillyn. "And, pro tip? Don't go shouting that you've been stealing cars."
Emillyn huffed, climbing into the backseat behind Isidore.
"So this is where Constance Welch took the swan dive." Dean noted casually, leaning most of his body over the bridge. Isidore looked over at him and he must have noticed the horrified expression on her face because he raised an eyebrow, "What? It's just a statement."
"I am certain there are more sensitive ways of stating such a thing." Isidore urged anxiously.
The corner of Dean's lips twitched, as if he was amused by the concept she was posing- or maybe just amused by her, though she couldn't imagine why.
"Dean, what next?" Sam asked from a few feet away, sounding exasperated, though Isidore wasn't sure if it was physical or mental exhaustion. Probably both, she settled on. "I told you, I need to be back by Monday."
"What's going on Monday?" Emillyn inquired, perking up curiously from her spot on the railings.
"An interview for a big, fancy law school- Sammy goes to Stanford." Dean stated, there was venom in his mouth as he said the words, rather than the pride one would expect. He was afraid, Isidore figured, the two had mentioned they were brothers only recently reunited in the car- when the four officially introduced themselves. She guessed he didn't want to be without his brother. And law school meant leaving.
"Stanford?" Emillyn repeated in surprise, "That's, like, an Ivy League."
"You must be very smart." Isidore agreed gently, though she had no idea what 'Ivy League' meant.
"If only he'd put his brains toward something actually useful." Dean said bitterly, glaring daggers at his brother.
"Not everything is about hunting, Dean! I gave it up!" Sam shouted defensively.
"It's not some job you can quit, Sammy." Dean said lowly, Isidore could see his fists clenching so tightly his knuckles were becoming a bright, pale shade. "There's no boss to call. It's a lifestyle- your lifestyle."
"No, Dean. It's yours and Dad's. You're both so obsessed with finding the thing that killed mom as if it'll bring her back. She's dead!" Isidore felt herself wince at the statement- she really didn't feel comfortable standing on the sidelines of something so obviously personal.
Dean grabbed Sam's jacket roughly, pushing Sam up against the bridge. He stared up at Sam, anger carved deeply into his boyish features, "Don't say shit like that about her."
"Are you two done fighting?" Emillyn cut in, "Interview or no interview, we have a hunt to do."
"You stay out of this-"
"Guys…" Isidore interrupted Dean, her voice barely above a whisper. Her dark eyes were locked with the sad, hypnotizing ones of Constance Welch, who stood barefoot on the railing of the bridge.
"Holy shit." Dean whispered roughly, the four arranging themselves beside one another as they stared at the girl.
Constance leaned forward taking a step off the bridge and plummeting toward the water.
"No!" Isidore cried, running to the railing and holding tightly to it. She watched with a horrified expression, staring at the water underneath the bridge. She knew this was one of her biggest flaws- she had trouble detaching herself from the things that they were hunting. Sympathy for the Devil, some would say. The thought made her reach her fingers up to settle themselves over the lump in her sweater which hid a tiny, gold cross necklace.
The other three followed quickly behind, crowding together around the spot on the railing where Constance had just previously stood. Her presence seeming to still linger eerily- maybe from the lack of splash.
The sound of a revving car broke the silence of the group, bright headlights shining like a spotlight on the four and illuminating the entire bridge. Emilyn turned her head to Dean, "What the fuck was that?"
"Dean, who's driving the car?" Sam asked.
Dean slowly reached his hand in his pocket, dangingling his car keys in the air.
"Holy shit." Emillyn whispered.
The car started up, moving toward them on it's own at a fast pace that only seemed to be increasing. The light inside the car revealing for certain that it was empty. Isidore reached out, grabbing the first thing she could find- Dean's arm- instinctively. "Run." She told the group.
The four turned on their heels, bolting down the bridge, Emillyn a stride ahead of the others. Sam jumped off the side of the railing, keeping a firm grip. Emillyn followed suit much more gracefully, seeming to hold herself up on the bridge easily. Dean grabbed Isidore's wrist, "Ready to jump, princess?"
Isidore shook her head violently, "No- Dean do not dare-!"
Dean ignored her protest, pulling her over the side of the railing. Isidore attempted to grab the side of the bridge but they fell far too fast. Isidore felt herself scream out and the brief thought that Constance must have felt like this just before she was alive crossed her mind, before she was absorbed by water.
Isidore came out of the motel bathroom, a room previously occupied by Sam and Dean's father, feeling fresh and renewed. She had buttoned up a far too large green and blue flannel passed down to her by one of the Winchester boys when she'd gone in for the shower and pulled on a spare pair of black leggings up underneath it. Even after an hour of scrubbing, though, she could still feel the amount of mud that had been crusted onto her body by jumping into the river. She cursed Dean for pulling her down with him, but appreciated the fact that he'd taken the brunt of the fall.
"You alright?" Sam asked from the other side of the room, studying a group of papers plastered in the wall that were connected by a thick, red string that John Winchester had apparently set up. John Winchester had the case supposedly figured out- a Woman in White after unfaithful men. Isidore wasn't certain she understood- why would this man up and leave a case behind that he apparently had thoroughly figured out?
"Yes, thank you. The dirt has found its way out of my hair." Isidore assured, unwrapping the towel from her head to let her damp, thick locks of dark hair fall free. "Where is Emillyn? And Dean?"
"They just stepped out before you. Said they were hungry." Sam explained, finally tearing his eyes away from the research. "Are you? Hungry, I mean?"
Isidore shook her head, "No, thank you." she said, then became very aware of her vibrating finger tips, "Coffee, though- that might be nice."
Sam's lips twitched into a smile, "Yeah, caffeine isn't such a bad idea-" He startled when his
phone rang, and quickly pulled it out of his pocket.
"Dean?" he asked into the phone, sounding disappointed at the fact. His expression slowly changed, "Shit. Yeah, okay. Isidore and I will go question the husband. Hang tight, alright?" He turned off the phone, cursing again under his breath.
"Is something wrong?" Isidore asked, eyebrows furrowing with concern.
"Cops caught our lie- and your friend's lie. Emillyn and Dean are being taken into custody." Sam explained.
"Oh- oh no. What do we do? H-how can we h-help them?" she stuttered out nervously, glancing anxiously between Sam and the motel window where she was almost certain she could see the police car in the parking lot.
Sam relaxed slightly and chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, "Dean'll figure it out, he's not helpless. Neither is your friend. I'll call some fake crime in and you and I will go ask Constance's husband some questions." Isidore gave him a nervous look, fidgeting with her fingers. Sam headed for the motel door, "C'mon, we'll get some coffee on the way."
"I hate you." Emillyn said for the umpteenth time, giving Dean a pointed look as the officer left the two handcuffed in the station to respond to a call. Only a roughly used journal, apparently previously owned by Dean's father, sat on the table in front of them.
"Oh, please. Is this really your first time in handcuffs?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at the blonde girl. "You're at least thirteen, you should've done this at least once by now."
"I'm not thirteen!" Emillyn hissed back, "And no, I haven't been arrested, not everyone spends their time pretending to be a fuckin' US Marshal, you asshole."
"You were pretending to be a friend of a dead kid." he argued.
"Friend of a dead kid doesn't come anywhere near equivalent to posing as someone in a government position." she shot back, slumping in her seat, "I really was hungry."
Silence fell over the two for a long moment, before Dean chuckled. "Top ten worst things that ever happened on a hunt?"
"This is certainly one of them." she said back, her annoyed look cracking into a smile. She looked at the journal on the table, "So your dad left that for you? Coordinates or notes or something?"
"Yeah, he must've really wanted me to see it, too. My dad takes this thing everywhere with him." his features fell slightly, obviously crossing into deep thought territory.
She didn't want to interrupt him but she was quite tired of being a sitting duck. She grabbed for the paper clip holding the pages of John's journal- removing the handcuffs from her wrists with a little bit of effort.
"That call the officer got- it was your brother, huh?" Emillyn questioned as she worked the handcuffs off of Dean's wrists.
"Yeah, we have plans A through Z for shit like this." he said, rubbing the spot where the handcuffs had just been.
"This happen often? You getting arrested?" she responded, leading the way out of the room and heading for the door of the police station. He grinned over at her, shrugging his shoulders. She rolled her eyes. "And Sid and I are the amateurs?"
"You're new to this. You'll be handcuffed plenty of times, trust me."
"Lookin' forward to it, Dean-O."
Isidore sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, flashlight pointed at the map in front of her. Constance Welch's old home where she drowned the children was circled in red marker. Their interview with her husband hadn't gone well- he'd basically threatened to call the cops if they didn't leave- but they got the confirmation they needed that he was unfaithful. Constance Welch was certainly a Woman in White.
"Who is Jess?" she asked suddenly after a particularly long stretch of ongoing road.
Sam glanced over briefly, Isidore noticed the way his hands kept going back and forth between grips on the wheel- he was deciding carefully what to say. "How'd you know about Jess?"
"I heard you calling her." she noted softly, wringing her hands. She suddenly felt very rude for even bringing it up, "I'm sorry- it is none of my business. I just… heard you calling her. It sounded like you care for her."
Sam took a deep breath, relaxing his hands slightly, "I do. I love her. I love so much it hurts." he admitted, the words sounded so genuine Isidore's own heart felt warm.
"Does she know…?" She asked softly, leaning her head against the cold window of the car. She tried to imagine dating under these conditions- the hunting conditions. It made her body shake with nerves- or maybe that was just the natural shaking.
"No. And I don't ever want her to. This life… it's like a disease. Spreading. Feasting." Sam said through a tense jaw, his eyes glued to the road.
She nodded once in agreement. There was nothing about that she could deny. Her own life had been consumed by this lifestyle. So was Emillyn's. Isidore thought there was no way she could pull away from this life- knowing what she knew. She'd never feel safe or comfortable. But she kept that to herself, not wanting to upset him with her own concerns. She was sure Dean gave Sam enough grief on the subject as it was.
"Take me home…"
A soft, creeping woman's voice spoke from the backseat. Isidore felt the hairs on her arms raise immediately as Sam brought the car to a screeching halt. Both looked into the the rearview mirror, seeing the pale face of Constance Welch staring back at them.
Sam moved for the car door, but it locked on its own quickly.
"Take me home." Constance drawled, much more menacingly.
"No." Sam said firmly.
As if on autopilot, the Impala revved back to life, speeding down the road. Isidore turned herself, looking over the seat, "Constance, stop." she begged.
"Isidore don't talk to it" Sam said firmly, pulling her back.
Constance glared back at Isidore. The car came to a jarring stop in front of an old, barely together house with festering wood planks. The door on Isidore's side opened and an invisible force shoved her out of the car effortlessly. She felt the back of her head smack against a rock on the ground and let out a soft cry of pain.
She heard Sam cry out from inside the car and snapped upright, ignoring the stinging pain in the back of her head. She scrambled to her feet, pounding on the window. "Sam!" she yelled. She looked around frantically, kneeling down and grabbing the rock she'd fallen on. She extended her hand, smacking the window with the rock tucked firmly against her palm. The glass shattered around her- Isidore could no longer tell if the blood covering the rock was from her head or her hand.
Constance shoved her fingers into Sam's chest, her horrifying face just inches away from Sam's.
"Isidore! Move!" Dean's shout felt distant and before she had any time to react herself Emillyn jerked her roughly out of the way. The sound of a bullet firing blared and Isidore reached her hands over her ears. One after another shots were fired till Constance's figure was no longer lurking over Sam.
Isidore could just barely hear Sam mutter something about 'home' before he pressed roughly on the gas pedal, driving the car through Constance's house. The sounds of falling wood louder than the bullets.
"Sam, you crazy son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, rushing after the car.
"C'mon." Emillyn said quickly, she grabbed the hand Isidore had that was and punctured by glass and led her after the car as well.
The three rushed to Sam's aid, forcing the Impala door open so they could help him out of the car. Sam was groaning in pain, his arm slightly stuck behind the car's steering wheel.
"Fuck." Emmilyn breathed out. Isidore turned and gasped. Two wet, child shaped figures stood holding hands at the top of the stairs. Pools of water falling around the wood.
Constance passed the four, not sparing them a glance as she raised a hand and a large, heavy dresser slid over- pinning the door between it and the car.
"You bitch!" Dean yelled, squirming uselessly. His face went red from the strength he was exerting to try and get the dresser off of himself and the others.
Isidore couldn't squirm- she didn't even feel like she could move. She felt a hypnotic need to stare at the sight in front of them. The kids had trailed down the stairs. The look Constance gave them was fearful- desperate. The two dark, small figures wrapped their arms around the woman's waist.
The screech Constance let out was agonizing. Isidore would have moved her hands to her ears had they not been pinned under the dresser.
The sight was haunting, a dark portal opening underneath the spirits. Blue fire raising up and around them till it engulfed them completely, pulling them down into the hole underneath them.
And then moments later it was gone- only a dark, damp spot left in the place of the three. The four exchanged looks, taking a deep breath and moving the dresser away from themselves.
"That another everyday hunting occurrence?" Emmilyn asked with a breathless laugh.
"No. Hell no." Dean replied heavily, looking to Isidore and Sam. "You two alright?"
Isidore and Sam glanced at each other, then nodded. "Nothin' we can't get over." Sam spoke.
"Good. Great. Well, you won't get over how much I'm gonna kill you both if anything happened to my Baby." Dean snapped, turning all his attention onto the car.
Isidore felt herself laugh lightly without meaning to.
"I am sorry Sam left, Dean." Isidore told him softly as the two sat in the driver's and passenger seat. She felt heavy. She'd only known Sam over a span of 48 hours and yet she felt like she was losing something a lot more than that. The three sat, still parked, outside of the apartment complex Sam has just disappeared into. Isidore glanced down at her bandaged left hand which was already beginning to scar over underneath it.
"Yeah, well, you got us!" Emillyn reminded perkily from the backseat, a grin on her face. "Though I still don't see why I can't have the front seat."
"Do you even make the height limit to be out of a booster seat?" Dean asked, shooting a smile at the blonde girl.
"Fuck you." she replied, though her smile didn't falter. "Don't make us rethink helping you find your dad."
Dean's expression changed immediately at the mention of his dad. He took a deep breath, looking between both girls, "You two sure you want to be in on all of this?"
"Of course-" Isidore started, but she interrupted herself as a frown slowly fell on her face, "Do you smell…?"
"Smoke." Emmilyn said seriously.
Dean's eyes widened, "Sam."
The three hurried out of the car, rushing into the building. The smell of smoke was certain now as they made their way up the stairs in the dark.
"You stepped on my foot!" Emillyn hissed.
Dean ignored her, throwing the door of Sam and Jess's apartment open. Sure enough the flames were taking over the room, as if they were encased only in here. The rest of the building seemed to have remained untouched- that was even more unsettling.
"Sammy!" Dean called, heading to his brother's side quickly.
Sam's eyes were focused on the ceiling, a kind of terror filled them that shook Isidore to the core. She slowly trailed her eyes to follow his sight, quickly covering her mouth, "Oh my God…" she whispered, her breath shaky.
A young, blonde woman appeared to be pinned to the ceiling. The blood that soaked her white gown giving the unshakable impression that her stomach had been cut open. Sam seemed to have blood on his forehead- Isidore didn't want to make the connection of where the blood came from.
Emillyn pulled Isidore out of the apartment behind Dean and Sam. Isidore could hear the painful sobs of Sam repeating Jess's name over and over, fighting hard in Dean's grip to try and go back to her.
"Sam! Sam!" Emillyn cried as they shuffled out of the apartment building, "What the hell went on in there?" Blaring sirens could already be heard, approaching from the end of the street.
Dean looked back to Emillyn and Isidore, his features sad and shoulders hunched as he still kept a firm grip on Sam, "That's what happened to our mother." he said seriously, "Whatever killed her killed Jess."