"I guess that's just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up."

― Lauren Oliver

Inferno

Living with Bobby had its perks. For instance, he didn't care remotely if you had a number of weapons in your bedroom, for whatever reason. Nor did her care if you stayed up, all night. As long as you didn't make him stay up all night, too. But one of the not-so-great things was having to clean all of the weapons once a month.

"This sucks," Karleigh said, rolling her eyes. She popped a chip into her mouth.

"Hey, stop that!" Isabelle exclaimed, snatching the bag of chips out of her sister's hands. She wiped off the knife her sister had been holding with a rag. "You're getting grease all over the knives."

"Sorry," Karleigh said simply, dipping a rag into a jar of polish and wiping the blade of a knife clean. She gazed longingly at the chips. "I'm hungry."

"Well, you're gonna have to wait until we're done with this," Isabelle began. "Be glad we only have to do this once a m-"

Bobby came striding into the room, his cell phone in his hand. He looked uncomfortable. "I just got off the phone with John Winchester," he said. "He's kind of in a tight spot right now."

There was an odd moment of silence, like the calm before a storm.

"How fantastic," Isabelle said, picking up a knife and spinning it delicately around in her fingers. "What did dear old John say, Bobby?"

"He needs to drop off his sons here. Dean and Sam. They're around your age. You've met before," Bobby explained hastily. "And I don't want any trouble from either of you. Play nice. They're nice boys. Damn good hunters, too."

Karleigh looked ready to scream. "When will they be here? I'd like to know how many hours of sanity I have left."

Bobby gave Karleigh a look. "Enough. They'll be here in about four hours, tops. You don't have to talk to John, he's just staying for an hour or two. Then he's gotta roll."

Isabelle tossed the knife back into the pile. "Good. I'm not going to talk to him."

Bobby gave her a look, almost identical to the one he gave Karleigh. Then, deciding it would be better not to get into this discussion, sighed. "Are these done?" he asked, gesturing to the pile of weaponry on the ground.

Isabelle nodded, and began placing them in various bags. "Yep."

"Alright," Bobby said, and he walked out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Isabelle picked up a knife and lodged it into the drywall. There was plenty of damage to the drywall already, so it didn't really matter. Quickly packing things up, she and Karleigh walked outside to the dusty graveyard of cars.

Isabelle threw the bags down on the ground, creating a small mushroom cloud of dust. She climbed up on one of the hoods, and lay down on it, her face to the sky. Karleigh lay down beside her.

"This is a crock of shit," Karleigh finally said. Isabelle nodded, her eyes closed.

"It will be a huge internal struggle for me not to beat the shit out of them," Isabelle said, her dark hair fanned out behind her. Karleigh snorted.

"I'm not even going inside when John is inside," Karleigh said. "Or things will end in flames. That is a promise."

(**)

"Isabelle, Karleigh!" Bobby yelled. "Get in here!"

Bobby gave the three men in the hallway a warning glance. "The girls aren't very excited that you're here. Just try to stay out of their way."

Suddenly, the back door opened, and two girls walked inside. One was tall, tan and had caramel blonde hair. Her mouth was turned down, scowling at the men in the doorway. Beside her, an older looking girl with dark brown hair and a sprinkle of freckles glared at them venomously. Both looked capable, and willing, of putting a bullet in their head. Dean turned and winked at Sam.

"This is Karleigh," Bobby said, gesturing to the tall tan girl. She just glared at them. "And this is Isabelle. They've grown up a lot, haven't they?"

Karleigh gave them a dry look before anyone could comment. "Great," she remarked. "The idiotic doorknobs are here. This is all very fascinating, I'm sure, but CSI is on right now, and I love that show. Please excuse me."

Isabelle glared at them, as Bobby gave them a murderous look. "I'd say it's nice to meet you, but I can't. Because I've already had the misfortune of meeting all of you. I don't even like CSI, but I'd rather not stay here. I'm gonna go. See you."

The girl slipped into the living room. There was a stunned silence.

"I'm going to kill them," Bobby muttered. "I'm sorry."

"It's no problem," John said quickly. "I can't stay, anyways. I've got to get going."

Isabelle could almost hear the disappointment. "You sure? I have some beers in the fridge, if you want to have one with me."

"No, it's okay," John said. "Thanks for taking them on such short notice. I better get going. See you," he said. The door closed.

The girls could hear Bobby embrace the two boys. "How are you guys doing?"

"We're doing fine," a boy's voice answered. He sounded older. "Where should we put our stuff?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter," Bobby said. "Just dump it anywhere. I'm afraid you two are going to have to flip for the couch."

"It's not a problem," a younger voice said. "Thanks, Bobby."

Then, the two boys walked into the room. Isabelle looked up at them, a bored expression on her face. She casually pulled out a knife from her pocket.

"So, what's up, ladies?" Dean asked in a fake whisper, a stand-offish grin on his face. "You on your periods or something?"

A knife lodged in the wall beside his head. The younger one jumped. Isabelle gave them a sweet smile. Karleigh pulled out a bag of chips, ripping it open and sniffing it.

Izzy, grabbing a remote that was wedged between the cushions, flicked on the TV. An awkward silence lingered in the air. The only sound was the buzz of the TV, and the crunch of Karleigh eating her chips.

"So why do you hate us so much?" Sam asked finally, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I mean, we haven't seen you guys in years."

Chips spewed from Karleigh's mouth. Isabelle's eyes widened in disbelief.

"You're kidding me, right?" She asked, a small unbelieving smile on her lips. Noticing their serious expressions, she sighed.

"Wow. And I here I was, thinking that your dad couldn't stoop to a lower level of Dick," the older Warrington said loudly, managing to look amused and murderous at the same time.

Dean stood up, his face angry. Izzy just waved him off. "Oh, calm down. It seems that Daddy isn't really as honest as you'd like to think." Karleigh saw how mad her sister was. Dean and Sam glared at the girls. "My mom died when I was young. My dad took it hard. Real hard. He trained us to be warriors, how to fight. Once, when I was thirteen, I went on a hunting trip with your Dad, Karleigh and my father. You weren't there. I don't think he had told Sam yet. Everything was told us to stay back at the campsite, for whatever reason. I still don't know. The next thing I know, John is back, my father's dead body in his hands."

Izzy leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to look sad. She wasn't. Not after what her father did to her. "Happy now?" she asked bitterly, a frown on her face. Dean and Sam sat for a moment, processing this information. Their eyes were filled with shock. Finally, Sam spoke.

"It might not have been his fault," he said, his expression shell-shocked.

Izzy looked at him seriously. "You're right. It might not have been his fault. I don't know that, and I probably never will. But it's damn hard to forget about it."

"So is that the only reason?" Dean asked. Karleigh smirked, and her eyes rolled up to the ceiling.

"Well, I don't like you," Isabelle said, a smirk almost identical to Karleigh's on her face. "Cocky boys annoy the shit out of me. But I guess you're alright, Sam."

There was a stunned silence. Karleigh got up, cracking her knuckles loudly.

"Shall we make dinner?" Karleigh asked, holding her arm out like a fine gentleman. Isabelle took it, and the two strided to the kitchen, Izzy humming a Beatles song.

"Bipolar much?" Dean said, his eyebrows raised. Sam shrugged.

(**)

"I hate them," Karleigh whispered, as she sprinkled seasoning on the steak.

Isabelle kneaded the dough roughly, an angry expression on her face. She punched it several times. "I know, I know. Especially the older one. He may be cute, but he pisses me off. The younger one is giving you the eye, though." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Karleigh wrinkled her nose. "Say that again and I'll put this seasoning up your nose," she threatened, her voice rich with disgust. Isabelle just laughed, and made kissy noises. Karleigh shrieked with rage, and grabbed the tin of seasoning, chasing after her sister with it.

"Is that pie?" Dean's voice asked. Both girls stopped where they were, and looked in the doorway of the kitchen. Dean stood there, looking longingly at the not-yet baked pie. Isabelle straightened, and narrowed her eyes.

"It's not done yet," she said, holding a wooden spoon in the way one would hold a spear. "So don't touch it."

Dean held his hands up in defence. "Alright, alright. Where's Bobby, anyway?"

Karleigh grinned, without looking up. "In his panic room, reading Busty Asian Beauties."

Dean grinned, and headed downstairs. Isabelle rolled her eyes with disgust. "Fantastic," she said sarcastically. "Another Busty Asian Beauties fanatic. I could just barf with delight."

"Please don't," Karleigh said with a raised eyebrows. "We're cooking here."

Isabelle laughed, and grabbed a CD from the pile on the counter. She slid it into an ancient looking boom box, and music began playing loudly. The girls, while still cooking, began swaying and dancing with the music.

Poor old Johnny Ray
Sounded sad upon the radio
But he moved a million hearts in mono
Our mothers cried
Sang along
Who'd blame them
You've grown, so grown
Now I must say more than ever
(Come On Eileen)
Too-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-rye, aye

And we can sing just like our fathers

Come on Eileen
Oh, I swear what he means (what he means)
At this moment you mean everything
You in that dress
My thoughts I confess
Verge on dirty
Oh, come on Eileen

(Come On Eileen)

These people round here
Wear beaten down eyes sunk
In smoke dried faces
They're so resigned to what their fate is
But not us (no not ever)
But not us (not ever)
We are far too young and clever
(Remember)
Too-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-rye, aye
And you'll hum this tune forever

Come on Eileen
Oh, I swear what he means
Aah, come on let's
Take off everything
That pretty red dress
Eileen (tell him yes)
Aah, come on let's
Aah, come on Eileen

That pretty red dress
Eileen (tell him yes)
Aah, come on let's
Aah, come on Eileen

Come on Eileen, too-rye-aye
Come on Eileen, too-rye-aye
Now you're full grown
Now you have shown
Oh, Eileen

Say, come on Eileen
These things they are real and I know
How you feel
Now I must say more than ever
Things round here have changed
I say, too-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-rye-aye

Come on Eileen
Oh, I swear (what he means)
At this moment, you mean everything
You in that dress, my thoughts I confess
Which are dirty
Aah, come on Eileen

Aah, come on Eileen
Oh, I swear (what he means)
At this moment, you mean everything
You in that dress, my thoughts I confess
Well, they're dirty
Come on Eileen

Come on Eileen...

(**)

Walking up the stairs, Sam looked around. It had been a while since he had been at Bobby's house- the place was a little unfamiliar to him. He couldn't really ask Bobby for a tour, though, for a variety of reasons. One being that Bobby was in his panic room reading hooters magazines with Dean.

The shower was on and running in the bathroom. But clearly, one of the bedrooms were still occupied, seeing as a warm light was peeking under the doorway, and soft music could just barely be heard. Sam gulped. The girls still seemed to hate them, though they had their reasons. They probably wouldn't appreciate him coming into their room to have a chat, especially Isabelle.

But he decided he would take his chances. Standing before the doorway, he knocked. The music stopped, and the sound of socked footsteps rapidly approached. The door flung open, and their stood Karleigh, looking at him in confusion and surprise. She held a bag of chips in her hand, munching on them loudly. She was dressed in denim shorts and a flower-print tank top. Her hair was braided loosely at the back, a few loose strands wrapping around her face. Sam wondered why he was taking so much notice of her.

Karleigh smiled at him, with a raised eyebrow. She popped a chip into her mouth before greeting him.

"Hey," she said nonchalantly. "What's up?"

Now he was puzzled. When he had first met her, she had been scarily angry towards him. Now this, all loose and relaxed and calm. Realizing he looked like an idiot, he cleared his throat.

"Hey," he said. "What are you doing?"

Karleigh look confused. "Um... I'm sitting on my bed, eating chips and reading Romeo and Juliet? Why do you ask?"

Sam felt extremely awkward. "Dean's in the panic room with Bobby reading god knows what, and I have nothing to do. Can I come in?"

Karleigh grinned at him. "Sure, I guess. Don't mind the mess, though. That's what you get when you pair me and Izzy together."

Sam laughed, inwardly cursing himself for being such an idiot. Getting a better look inside, he saw that it was a mess. Books, a lot of them, were strewn everywhere. Empty bags of chips and other various snacks were all on the floor. Weapons, mostly guns and knives, were peeking out of the most absurd places.

"This is nice," he said with a strained smile. Karleigh laughed.

"Yeah, right! Bobby hates it. He's always after us to clean it up, but it always ends up turning back into this." She noticed him glancing at the paperback version of Romeo and Juliet. "You read Shakespeare?"

Sam nodded, glad that the atmosphere was improving. "Yeah, I read it for my ninth grade English class."

Karleigh grinned at him, looking pleased. "You liked it? Most people didn't."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I liked it. It was beautiful, really."

"I've liked him since I was a kid," Karleigh said."'The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.' The guy was a genius. I actually did a voluntary paper on him in grade five, just for fun. But then I dropped out."

"Yeah?" Sam asked. "Why'd you drop out?"

Karleigh smiled sadly. "I got made fun of a lot. Finally, in grade seven, Izzy snapped. She always stuck up for me, y'know? She ended up pushing a kid down two flights of stairs. We were both expelled. We've been home-schooled ever since."

"You're lucky," Sam said. "High school isn't fun."

"Well, if it was anything like elementary, it must not be. Everyone was so stupid and petty." Karleigh laughed.

Sam was about to reply when the bedroom door swung open, and Isabelle marched in, her hair wet. She was dressed in shorts and a Beatles t-shirt. She raised her eyebrows at the pair, and grinned.

"Guess you didn't want to join Bobby and Dean, huh?" she asked with a laugh, sitting down on her bed. "I didn't think you the type."

Sam felt blood rushing to his cheeks. He shook his head. "No ... that's not really my thing."

"Guess what, Izzy?" Karleigh asked her sister excitedly. "Sam reads Shakespeare. He likes it!"

Isabelle raised her eyebrows with surprise. "Really? Wow. Well, you're never going to get rid of her now." She gestured to her sister. "You'll have to invite me to the wedding."

Sam blushed, but Karleigh didn't look at all embarrassed. She just shoved her sister. "Oh, be quiet Isabelle."

Isabelle just laughed, and took a chip from the bag her sister was holding. She danced out of the room. "Don't let me keep you," she said with a laugh. They could then hear her footsteps going down the stairs.

(**)

Isabelle made her way down the stairs, and entered the living room. The room was dark, as it always was. She grabbed a remote, and flicked on the TV, searching for something good to watch.

Sam wasn't that bad, she mused. Karleigh seemed to like him enough, and that was good enough for her. Dean was another story. He was the poster boy of all things cocky, and everything she hated. There had been guys like that, when she had went to school. She couldn't stand them, with their stand-offish grins and magical sparkling eyes. Then again, she couldn't stand almost anybody.

Izzy absent-mindley took a pocket knife out of her back pocket and began playing with it, her mind wandering. The rage she had felt when John had showed up almost scared her. Sam was right, it wasn't really his fault that her father had died. Not that she wasn't glad he was dead. Her father had been a monster. She hated all of this rage that her life held. Suddenly, the sound of her cell phone ringing awakened her from her stupor. Checking the front, it was an unknown number. Feeling slightly suspicious for some reason, she opened it and put it to her ear.

"Hello?"

End of Chapter One