Hello, friends. Here's chapter four, I know this story has kind of gotten off to a rough start. Not my best work, but it can only get better from here, right? Well, not really, but I hope so.
This new character was inspired by a friend of mine. I hope you don't like him as much I do. lol
Next chapter is when things really start to become supernatural, and Isabelle becomes immersed in the story and the monsters that have invaded her life.
If Isabelle starts to become too Mary Sue, I hope you'll let me know so I can change that.
Remember, constructive criticism is more than welcome.
Reviews would really be nice! They are better than chocolate - and I really love chocolate. :)

Nope, he wasn't. He was unlike any weirdo I had ever met.
He greeted us by barely cracking the door and peering out, a chain barricading it.
"Who is it?" He asked.
"It's Sam and Dean Winchester, Beau."
He laughed, and opened the door entirely, the sound of chains falling. "It is good to see you, my friends!"
He was bald, and African American, with his hands, folded perfectly in front of him. "How are you all doing?" He spoke in a British accent, his voice just a tad too high for his looks.
"Hey, Beau," Dean said, shook his hand and brought him into a bro hug.
"How ya doing?" Sam asked as he hugged him.
"I've been better. I have some unsettling news."
His eyes landed on me, and he snarled, "Who's the slut?"
I knew this was too good to be true.
"This 'slut' is tired of your bull crap. Where you from? Hogwarts?"
He put on a smile for me, "I was born and raised here, actually."
Sam pitched in, "Beau likes watching British television in his downtime."
"Sherlock." Beau provided.
I quirked an eyebrow, "High-functioning Sociopath – it looks like you got more than just the accent from the show."
He copied my expression, "This one has snark – I do not like that." He looked at me smugly, and I stuck my tongue out at him.
Dean got in between us, "Okay, that's enough, back to this 'unsettling news.'"
Beau looked at him appraisingly, "Yes, let's come inside."
Inside the cabin wasn't that much more exciting than the outside, books were lining the walls and a large flat screen tv in the living room that was tastefully furnished.
Above us, as we walked in the door was what looked like a devil's trap, and as we walked further into the room, I noticed little things that wouldn't be in an average house. Like the multiple crucifixes, the gallon jugs of water scattered across, salt lines around the window seals and the mid-evil weapons on the walls.
Beau leads us to the kitchen table, and sat four glasses on the table, filling three of them up with scotch before Dean stopped him from filling the fourth, "No alcohol for this one." I rolled my eyes but accepted the glass of water that Beau offered. I guess my snark didn't stop him from being a good housekeeper.
Beau pulled out a paper map and laid it on the table as we all sat around. There were certain places circled, others triangulated, others marked with x's.
He pointed towards downtown – where I usually worked.
"There has been a huge amount of activity in this area – werewolves mostly, they've infected the police force and kill when they're called out." Yeah, I know. I thought. He pointed to East Birmingham, and then to Vulcan city, "Vampires have been going crazy in the east, attacks almost every night, missing persons reports being filed by the tens. And then there are the furnaces, I was on a hunt a few months back, I've never seen such high EMF."
Sam interrupted, "Well, of course, there's high EMF, that place is practically a grave site. Hundreds of people died there when the city first started booming from the mining industry back in the early 1900s."
"Nerd," Dean mumbled under his breath.
Beau looked at him and took a sip from his glass, "I've never seen so many angry spirits, though, Sam. Something's got them riled up, there have been more murders in Sloss than in the whole city in the past year."
Sam poured over the map, leaving his glass untouched, "What about the rest of the city?"
"I've heard rumors of demons in the southern district, a djinn down in Bessemer, and a wraith in Union Springs! The whole state is ridden with them. You know, I haven't left this house in two months?" He held up two fingers to mark his point.
"Why?" I asked, "Isn't your job to hunt these things?"
His gaze hardened at me, "Why is she here?" He pointed at me with his brows scrunched
up.
"Long story," Dean said.
"I don't want her in my house!"
"Beau, listen –"Sam tried.
"No! I'll talk to you boys, but she has to go! I don't like her smart mouth."
"I've literally said two things you don't like, and now you're kicking me out?" I exclaimed, standing up in frustration, Sam and Beau standing up with me.
"Exactly!" Beau said, "Now leave!"
Dean drained the rest of his glass and made a grab for Sam's. "Beau, why don't you calm down? Isabelle might be a pain in the –"
"You literally just met me."
"But," Dean continued, "She knows first hand what these monsters can do. Give her a chance."
"Nope, now leave." I rolled my eyes and stormed towards the door.
"I don't wanna be here anyway!"
I heard Sam follow me, but I didn't look back. I marched past their car parked in the driveway and started down the dirt road.
"Isabelle," Sam called, but I kept on going. "Where are you going?" he asked as he walked beside me.
"Somewhere away from all of this crazy," I said, not meeting his eyes.
"It's dangerous for you out there."
"So? Maybe I'll die quickly."
"Don't talk like that!" he exclaimed.
I continued walking, and he kept following. I was frustrated beyond belief.
"I thought you said I would like that son of a witch?"
Sam did a partial grunt, sigh combo and said, "Beau's complicated."
"Like that explains anything."
"Can you just stop walking away from me? Let's talk." I slowed down, and finally stopped, turning to face him with my arms crossed, my feet set close together, and my face scrunched up in a scowl. "Listen, don't listen to Beau, some stuff happened a few years back, and he's never been the same. But he's a good resource, he's been in the hunt for years. He's protected the city since '94, he's –"
"I don't care what he is, he's a certified a-hole, and that's all I need to know. I want to go home."
"I know, but you can't right now."
"Why not?" I exclaimed, exasperated, throwing my hands in the air.
"Because a wolf got your scent and he got away. He'll go back to his pack, and they'll be after you. You can't leave us right now, at least until we get things under control."
I looked at Sam, he was genuine, I could tell that much.
He put his hand on my shoulder, "Don't touch me." I whispered, withdrawing from his reach.
He put his hands up in a sign of peace, "Okay, I'm sorry." He sighed, relaxing and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "But please, try to get along, just for the time being."
"I apologize," I said, folding my arms. "But I can't."
Sam pursed his lips, "Okay, but can we please go back to the house and wait on Dean. I'll stay with you, just don't run off."
I looked him in the eyes, his darn puppy eyes, and I let out a huff, my breath fog in the winter air. "Fine."
He grinned at me, "Good." And turned to walk in the opposite direction, I followed. He made it a point not to walk behind me, or in front of me, just beside me. Like a friend almost – I wasn't used to that. Maybe he wasn't so bad.
When Dean walked out of the cabin, he had a look on his face – I wasn't sure how to describe it other than bad news.
"Let's head back to the room." He slammed the door as he climbed in, cranking the car and pulling out; kicking up dirt in his wake.
Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel the whole way back to the hotel, I couldn't tell if it was to Metallica playing on the stereo or he was just downright angry at something.
Sam sat silently and awkwardly in the passenger seat, while I sat even more awkwardly in the back, wishing I had a cell phone to escape from the stifling depression in the whole car. All contained in the rolled up, frosted over windows.
By the time we pulled off Interstate 65, Dean was a bottle rocket about to explode, and Sam looked like he was dying to ask a question. Things weren't precisely homey between the two of them, not yet anyway, maybe they used to be. But right now, it was like they were still trying to get a new feel of each other, and Sam decided to test the waters.
"Okay, what's going on with you?"
Dean sighed, "I don't know, man, Beau's different than how he was when we were kids. He's downright unreasonable."
"Tell me about it," I muttered in the backseat, and Dean glared at me in the rearview mirror – again.
"You know things have been rough for him, maybe he's just finally done with everything."
"But you don't just quit like that, man, not the way he has. He's still researching, he's just not in the field. He downright refused when I asked him." The song changed on the radio to Some Kind of Monster and Sam turned it down, fully immersed in the conversation. I looked out the window, watching the sun go down over the skyline. Tuning them out, I thought about what had happened to my life in the past twenty-four hours. It had been completely flipped upside down, right side up again, and flipped once more.
Monsters were real, and so was Beau the obnoxious – someone I could have gone my whole life without meeting.
I had seen the mutilated body of a hookup that was better left undiscussed. I was now in the vehicle of two men who had no interest (I think) in raping me, having sex with me, or having any ill intent with me. It was different, something I hadn't had the security of in two years. Heck, longer than that even, my uncle was a sick person.
They had saved me, threatened me, helped me, and I was now stuck with them or else. I didn't like my odds away from them, but I wasn't too fond of my luck with them. Trouble seemed to follow them wherever they went, and I was just along for the ride. Maybe fate had some psycho bone to pick with me and thought this would have been a fun twist in the ropes.
We pulled up to the hotel after being stuck in traffic for two hours, the sun long since set.
It wasn't that late, but Sam seemed set on research and Dean set out to hit the bar down the street. That left me sitting on the bed, kicking my feet back and forth, wishing I had a change of clothes or shoes. My toes were about to kill me before any monster got the chance. I took the shoes off, massaging my feet and sighing. I wanted a shower, but I was also worried.
Sam seemed like a nice guy, but I didn't like being alone with him, and I really didn't like the idea of being alone in a cramped hotel room with him while I was naked in the shower.
I must have sat there for about an hour, thinking to myself if it was worth the risk. I hadn't bathed in a few days, not being home in a while. It wasn't the best way to spend my time, but it was better than being with my parents, and it beat asking them for more money to rent a place to live.
Sam eventually seemed to catch wind of my anxiety and asked me if I was okay.
I looked at him, wrung my hands and weighed my options. "Um," I started, and he put down the papers he was holding, leaning back in his chair.
"What's up?" He asked.
"Is it okay if I shower?"
"Sure, you don't have to ask."
"Thanks," I said and headed to the run-down bathroom.
I closed the door, noticing the lack of a lock and panicked. I looked at myself in the mirror and whispered to myself, "It's okay, you can fight if you have to, you will not be taken advantage of again." And started the water, filling the cold bathroom with steam in a few short minutes.
As I showered, I almost cried. Not only from the sting of the cuts on my chest but from the sheer crazy of everything that has happened. I heard that trauma brings everything to the surface, maybe it was time to let myself let everything catch up with me. Every bitter moment in my life, every harsh reality.
But then I remembered that monsters are real and have infested my city, that did the trick to dry up my eyes – I didn't have time right now to let things come to the surface, so I buried it further.
I buried it under fortified walls, walls that could only be built on the street. Walls that were hard as hell.
I was startled out of my reverie when I heard a knock on the door, "Isabelle?" Sam's voice came through.
"Yeah?" I called back.
"I have some clothes you can put on if you want?"
I hesitated, that would mean he would have to come in, a stupid shower curtain all that would be protecting me. All those safe feelings I felt so early this morning completely evaporated. He might have saved me, but he was still a man, and men could never be entirely trusted.
"Isabelle?" The water running over me was so hot it seemed cold, the water heater must be freaking out.
"Um, yeah, okay." I held both sides of the curtain closed firmly.
"Is it okay if I come in?" He sounded worried about asking, was he planning something?
"Yeah." I heard the door open and the sound of fabric rustled before he turned back around and walked to the door, calling over his shoulder,
"I'll be right out here if you need me."
"Okay, thanks." I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding as I heard him close the door, peaking outside the curtain to make sure he was gone. He was, and true to his word there was a lump of folded clothes on the vanity.
I finished my shower quickly from then on and climbed out.
The clothes were entirely too big, meant for Sam's tall, lanky frame. But they were clean and looked comfortable, so I appreciated the sentiment. I folded over the pants, rolled up the sleeves of the Stanford sweatshirt and combed through my hair with my fingers.
When I finally exited the washroom, Sam was right where I had left him, so research engrossed he barely noticed me.
Dean walked in an hour later, some smudged lipstick on his cheek, a little tipsier than when he left.
"Find anything?" He asked Sam.
Sam put down one of the library books he had in hand, and said, "It just doesn't make sense. Why would monsters be so infested in this one area? I've never seen anything like it, it's almost like how gangs are. Like one owns one part of a city, and another owns another area."
Dean shrugged, "Well, things are getting crazier every day, why not throw in monster gangs?"
By that time, I had only gotten a few hours of sleep in the past three days, like a grand total of four hours – I was used to long shifts, but there had to be a point where you drew the line. My wounds hurt, and Sam's hoodie had me in an overly-big hug.
"Do you need anything, Isabelle?" Sam asked, Dean, standing behind him at the table.
Some pain meds and a nice long nap sounded nice, but I said, "I'm okay, thank you though."
Sam pursed his lips like he wanted to ask something else, but he returned his eyes to his laptop. Dean looked at me, narrowed his eyes, and then shook his head, heading for the bathroom. I got the feeling that he didn't care for me for some reason, I don't know why I have such undeniable charm.
My eyes were drooping again, I tried to focus on the papers, but I was so terribly near-sighted that all they were was blurred black on a page. I got off the bed, walked over to the table, and looked at the papers. They were missing persons reports, murder articles, and kidnappings. All within the same forty-mile radius.
I glossed over most of them, but one of them caught my eye, Gracie Simpkins. I picked it up, the picture on the front a face I knew all too well. The date of the kidnapping took place a few hours after I last saw her. I swallowed, my lips pressed into a tight line, and whispered, "No."
Sam looked up, saw my face and asked, "What?" He looked at the paper I held in my hand, "Did you know her?"
"Yeah," I muttered, a lump in my throat making the words squeak out. Dean walked out of the bathroom, changed into sweatpants. "She's my sister."

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