I don't own Supernatural or any of it's characters. I only own Isabeau and my own original characters.

Sam, Isabeau and Dean are sitting at a table in a diner. Isabeau is sitting next to Dean, picking at her fries as Sam has his laptop open. Onscreen is a mugshot of Dean from the St. Louis Police Department, "So much for our low profile. You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database." Sam tells him.

Dean grins, "Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something."

"Dean, it's not funny. Makes the job harder, we've gotta be more careful now." Sam says.

"Well, what do they got on you?" Dean asks.

Sam stares at him for a second and types on his laptop, "I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet." He mutters.

Isabeau shakes her head, "No accessory? Nothing?" She was genuinely curious.

"Nope." Sam answers.

Dean laughs, "You're jealous."

"No, I'm not!"

Dean takes a bite of his fries, "Uh-huh. All right. What do you got on the case there, you innocent, harmless young man, you?" He wraps his arm over Isabeau's shoulders with a smug smirk.

Isabeau chuckles, "Oh, Sam is far from innocent."

Sam gives her a look which causes Isabeau to raise her hands in defense with a small smile. Sam shuts his computer, and pulls out several pages of research, "Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed."

Dean hums, "Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?"

"Two days earlier." Sam answers.

"Did he actually say Black Dog?" Isabeau asks, many thoughts flooding her mind.

Sam nods, reading the papers, "Yeah. 'A vicious, wild, black dog.' The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive."

"Do you think we're dealing with an actual Black Dog?" Dean asks.

Sam shrugs, "Well, maybe."

"What's the lore on it?"

Sam passes Dean the papers as Isabeau explains, "It's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but... some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big, nasty…"

Dean looks at the pictures, "Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg, look at that one, huh?" He holds up a picture and smirks. Sam glares at him and the smirk slips, "What? They could."

In a posh, well-lit apartment, Sam, Isabeau and Dean are wearing suits and interviewing a man. "So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?" Sam asks.

"That's right. Now one more time, this is for...?" The man asks, looking over at Isabeau.

She pushes up her thick framed glasses, for some odd reason she really loved wearing them, "A tribute to Mr. Boyden. Architectural Digest." The Man laughs.

Isabeau tilts her head, "This funny to you?"

The man shakes his head, "No, it... it's just, a tribute. Yeah. See, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind... well, he gets another tribute."

"Right." Sam sighs, "Any idea why he'd do such a thing?"

"I, I have no clue, I mean he lived a charmed life." The man says.

"How so?" Sam asks.

The man shrugs, "He was a flat-out genius. I mean, I'm capable, but next to him, I... and it wasn't always that way, either."

"No?" Dean asks.

The man sighs, "You wanna know the truth? There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago he's working as a bartender at this place called Lloyds. A complete dive."

Isabeau shoves her hands in her pockets, "Right. So what changed?"

The man looks over at her, "You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission, and he starts designing... he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like, the level of Van Gogh, and Mozart…" He stops abruptly.

"What?" Dean asks.

"It's funny. True geniuses, they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent? Why... why just throw it away?" The man asks.

Dean exits a building designated Animal Protection Agency, still wearing the suit. Sam and Isabeau are waiting in the car, still wearing their own suits. Dean gets in the driver's side.

"So?" Sam asks.

Dean sighs, "Secretary's name is Carly. She's twenty three, she, uh, kayaks, and they're real." Dean jokes.

Isabeau gives him a look, and wacks him over the back of the head, "You didn't happen to ask her if she's seen any black dogs lately, did you?"

Dean rubs the back of his head, de deserved that one and holds up a page, "Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, or dog-like. There's nineteen calls in all. And, uh,"

He pulls off a post-it note, "I don't know what this thing is."

Sam takes it, reads it, and laughs. He glances at Isabeau who is glaring at the post it note and then glances at Dean, "You mean Carly's MySpace address?"

Dean shakes his head, "Yeah, MySpace, what the hell is that?"

Sam laughs again.

"Seriously, is that like some sort of porn site?" Dean asks.

Isabeau snorts, "No it means I might go have to go kick some girls ass."

Sam chuckles, "Easy there, Beau. No threatening some poor girl today."

Dean raises his brow at Isabeau with a smug smirk, "Someone is overprotective." He places a hand on her thigh, squeezing it.

Isabeau scoffs, "Oh, come on! You two practically sent me out of commission for a whole day because of the fact that Gordon filtered with me. I'm entitled to be overprotective."

Dean, Isabeau and Sam approach yet another white suburban door and knock. "I swear, if this is another freakin' Pomeranian barking in the neighbor's yard…" Dean says.

The door opens to reveal a young woman. "Afternoon, ma'am." Isabeau pulls out an ID, "Uh, Animal Control."

The woman shakes her head, "Oh, someone already came yesterday."

"Oh, we're just following up. We're looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman?" Sam asks.

The three stand inside the kitchen as the woman talks to him, "The Doctor, well, she, I don't know exactly when she'll be back, she left two days ago."

"Okay. And you are...?" Sam asks.

"I'm Ms. Pearlman's maid." The woman nods.

"So where did the Doctor go?" Dean asks.

The woman shakes her head, "I'm not sure. She just packed and went, she didn't say where. That stray dog, did you find it finally?"

Isabeau sighs, "Oh, not yet. You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?"

"Well, no. I never even heard it." The woman says.

In the background, Dean takes a photograph off the wall. It shows Dr. Pearlman at a bar with two friends.

The woman continues, "I was almost starting to think the Doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so…"

"Hey, you know I read she was, uh chief surgeon at the hospital. She's gotta be what, forty two, forty three? That's pretty young for that job." Dean says.

The woman smiles, "Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position... ten years ago?"

Isabeau nods, fiddling with her rosary inside her jacket pocket. Ten years, huh? Looks like she needed to make a call.

Dean nods, humming, "Huh."

Sam does the same, "Huh. An overnight success. Ten years ago."

"Yeah, we know a guy like that. Oh, look at this." Dean holds up the photo, flips it over to show writing on the back, "Lloyd's Bar."

Dean, Isabeau and Sam pull up outside Lloyd's Bar and get out, no longer dressed in their suits. As they walk towards the bar, Dean notices some yellow flowers growing by the side of the road. He stops, "Hey."

Isabeau and Sam stop, "Yeah?" Sam asks.

Dean points at the flowers that were all growing along the crossroads, "That's weird."

"What?" Sam asks again.

"Think someone planted these?" Dean walks up to the flowers, Sam and Isabeau follow.

"Middle of all these weeds?" Sam asks as they stop in front of a patch of them.

"These are, uh, what do you call 'em." Dean asks.

Isabeau crouches down, plucking a few from the ground, "Yarrow flowers." She stands up straight, smiling at them and sniffs them, taking in their scent.

Sam and Dean look over at her, "Used for certain rituals, aren't they?" Dean asks.

Isabeau nods, "Yeah, actually. Summoning rituals." She pulls aside her jacket and places the flowers in her inside pocket for later.

Sam raises a brow at her and she shrugs, "What? Can use them for later. Summoning isn't their only purpose."

Dean chuckles, "Heh. So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's."

"Where there just happens to be a crossroads. You think?" Sam asks.

"Let's find out." Dean walks to the center of the crossroads and looks around, measuring, "This seem about the dead center to you?"

Dean digs a few inches into the hard soil with a shovel and hits something solid. He stops, "Yahtzee."

He drops the shovel and digs with his hands, pulling out an old rusted box. He opens it and it contains, among other things, several small bones and a small stoppered jar that Sam takes out, "I'd be willing to bet that's graveyard dirt. And a black cat bone."

Isabeau frowns at the bones. She was thankful that she and her coven didn't need animal bones to do any of their craft, "That's serious spellwork. I mean, that's Deep South Hoodoo stuff." She says.

Sam shakes his head, "Used to summon a demon."

Isabeau huffs as all three of them stand from their crouched position, "Not just summon one. Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good." She says the last part sarcastically.

"They're seeing dogs, all right. But not Black Dogs, they're seeing Hellhounds. Demonic pit bulls." Sam says.

Isabeau purses her lip, stopping herself from saying anything. Yeah, Hellhound could be pitbulls, but they could also be black german shepherds.

Dean agrees, "Yeah, whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting. And that doctor lady? Wherever she's running? She ain't running fast enough."

Isabeau, Sam and Dean stand by the impala, Isabeau was playing with more of the yarrow flowers in her hands.

"So it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right?" Sam asks, "I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?"

"Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you know his music." Dean says and Sam shrugs.

Dean shakes his head, "You don't know Robert Johnson's songs? Sam, there's, there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, Crossroad Blues? Me and the Devil Blues? Hellhound on My Trail?"

Sam frowns, and Dean rolls his eyes, "The story goes, he died choking on his own blood, he was hallucinating, and muttering about big evil dogs."

"And now it's happening all over again." Sam says.

"Yeah." Isabeau confirms, still playing with the flowers.

"We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here." Sam says.

Dean nods, "Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play Let's Make A Deal."

Sam shakes his head, "So what, we should just leave them to die?"

"Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?"

"Dean." Isabeau scolds, placing the flowers with the other ones inside her jacket.

"All right. Fine." Dean pauses, "Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right?" He asks Isabeau and she nods.

Dean holds up a small photo of a man, "So this guy probably summoned this thing, let's go and see if anyone inside knows him. If he's still alive."

Sam, Isabeau and Dean are walking up a set of wide, wooden stairs to the fourth floor of an apartment building. "What's this guy's name again?" Sam asks.

"George Darrow." Dean answers, "Apparently quite the regular at Lloyd's. Though this house probably ain't up next on MTV Cribs, is it?"

Sam chuckles, "Yeah. So whatever kind of deal he made…"

"Wasn't for cash." Isabeau says, "Oh, who knows. Maybe this place is full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis." She smirks at her joke.

Dean smacks her ass in warning and Sam sighs at her, giving a look.

Isabeau chuckles at them, "No, I'm just saying, this guy's got one epic bill come due. Hope at least he asked for something fun."

They reach the landing and stop in front of apartment 4C. The floor is dusted with a fine black powder. "Look at that." Sam says.

They crouch down, fingering it. "What is that, pepper?" Dean asks. Isabeau shakes her head, she knew what it was; it was Goofer Dust.

The door opens to reveal George; a middle-aged man with graying hair, wearing a grimy t-shirt and open button-down, "Who the hell are you?"

"George Darrow?" Isabeau asks.

"I'm not buying anything." George almost closes his door.

Dean stops him, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, looks like you went for the wrong shaker there. Heh. Usually when you want to keep something evil out you go for the salt."

George's eyes shift over all three of them, "I don't know what you talkin' about."

"Talkin' about this." Dean holds up the small picture, "Tell me... You seen that Hellhound yet?"

"Look. We want to help. Please. Just five minutes." Sam begs.

George shows them in and pours himself a glass of whisky. The studio apartment is filled with paintings, completed and half-finished, and a table holds painting supplies.

Isabeau smiles as she looks around. Looking at all the paintings made her miss her small art studio in the basement of her house that she shared with her father.

"So what is that stuff out front?" Sam asks.

"Goofer Dust." Isabeau answers before George could.

They look at Isabeau blankly as she smiles at George, "Beautiful work by the way."

George points his finger at her, "I like you." He turns to Sam and Dean, "What, you boys think you know somethin' about somethin' but not Goofer dust?"

He tosses Dean a brown sack, tied close with twine.

Dean catches it, "Well, we know a little about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous."

Sam shakes his head as Isabeau steps in between Sam and Dean, "What is it?" He asks.

"Hoodoo. My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons." George says.

Dean chuckles, "Demons we know."

"Well, then. Keep it. Maybe it'll do you some good." George walks over to a chair, "Four minutes left."

Dean glances at Sam, who takes the lead, "Mr. Darrow. We know you're in trouble."

"Yeah, that you got yourself into." Dean comments.

Sam looks over at Dean, "But it's not hopeless, all right?" He half-directs his words to him, "There's gotta be something we can do."

George waves his hand at them, "Listen. I get that you three want to help. But sometimes a person makes their bed, they've just got to lie down in it. I'm the one called that demon in the first place."

Isabeau tilts her head, "What'd you do it for?"

"I was weak." George answers her, "I mean, who don't want to be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just... I just never thought about the price."

"Was it worth it?" Dean asks.

"Hell no. 'Course, I asked for talent. Shoulda gone for fame." He chuckles bitterly, "I'm still broke, and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want. But that wasn't the worst."

"Go on." Sam urges.

George shakes his head, "Demon didn't leave. I never counted on that. After our deal was done the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chattin'. Makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but, I mean who's goin' to listen to an old drunk?"

Isabeau shifts in her spot, "How many others are there?"

George thinks, "Uh, the architect, that doctor lady. I kept up with them, they've been in the papers. Least they got famous."

Dean steps forward, "Who else, George? Come on, think."

"One more. Uh, nice guy too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for." George says.

Sam shakes his head, "No. No, there's gotta be a way."

"You don't get it! I don't want a way!" George places his glass down.

"Look, you don't-"

George abruptly gets up from his chair, "I called that thing! I brought it on myself. I brought it on them. I'm going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off 'till then. Buy a little time. Okay. Time you went, go help somebody that wants help."

"We can't just-" Sam tries to speak.

"Get out!" George shouts, "I got work to do."

"You don't really want to die."

"I don't?" George asks, "I'm... I'm tired."

They leave as George starts painting. Isabeau pauses in the doorway and gestures for Sam and Dean to head down the stairs without her.

They share a look and nod, leaving Isabeau in the doorway.

Isabeau sighs, walking back over to George, staring at the painting as he works. "I thought I told you to get out?" George asks, still painting.

She shrugs, "I'm stubborn, especially when I see work I like."

George halts and turns to her, "You like my work?"

Isabeau nods, "It's a hundred percent different my style, but I find interest in everyone's work."

George chuckles, painting again, "So you're an artist? Well known?"

Isabeau shakes her head, "Nope, but that's okay. I'm mostly skilled in art history, but I have a passion for painting as well… I would like to take a few off your hand."

George looks at her in disbelief. Isabeau shrugs sheepishly, "If you don't mind? I know that time is short, but I want you to know that at least your work will be appreciated and looked at by many."

George thinks for a moment, "Do me a favor."

Isabeau nods, "Anything."

He sets down his brush and palette, walking over to his desk, pulling something out of a drawer. George walks back over, grabbing her hand and placing a small, cold metal object in her palm, "When my time is up, take it all."

Isabeau looks down and opens her hand, seeing that he placed a spare key to his apartment in her hand. She looks back up at George and nods.

George smiles, patting her shoulder, "Thank you. At least I know it will be going somewhere safe and not thrown away."

Isabeau places the key in her pocket, "Of course. You have my word."

Dean, Isabeau and Sam approach Evan's front door. Sam knocks and a moment later, Evan opens the door, "Yes?"

"Evan Hudson?" Isabeau asks.

"Yeah." Evan nods.

"You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's? Would have been about ten years ago." Dean says.

Terrified, Evan slams the door and latches it. "Come on, we're not demons!" Dean shouts.

Inside, Evan bolts into a back room. "Any other bright ideas?" Sam asks Dean.

Dean steps back, sets himself, then kicks the door down in one go and they enter. Outside the back room Evan has just entered, Dean prepares to kick down that door too.

Isabeau catches his leg, stopping him, "What —" Looking at Dean pointedly, Isabeau turns the handle and pushes the door open gently.

The room is quiet as they enter. "Evan?" Sam calls out

Evan jumps out from behind a bookshelf, "Please! Don't hurt me."

Sam holds his hand out, pacifying, "We're not going to hurt you, all right? We're here to help you."

"We know all about the genius deal you made." Dean says.

"What? How?" Evan asks.

Isabeau waves her hand dismissively, "Doesn't matter. All that matters is, we're trying to stop it."

"How do I know you're not lying?" Evan asks.

Dean sighs, "Well, you don't, but you're kinda running low on options there, buddy-boy."

Evan swallows and starts pacing, "Can you stop it?"

"Don't know. We'll try." Sam tells him.

Evan rubs a hand over his face, "I don't want to die."

Dean scoffs, "Of course you don't, not now."

"Dean. Stop." Sam says quietly.

Dean ignores him, "What'd you ask for anyway, Evan? Huh? Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game? What?"

"My wife." Evan answers.

Dean laughs, "Right. Gettin' the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to hell for."

"Dean, stop." Isabeau warns.

"No." Evan walks over to them, "He's right, I made the deal. Nobody twisted my arm, that... woman, or whatever she was, at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but... I don't know how to— I was desperate."

"Desperate?" Sam asks, confused.

Evan sighs, "Julie was dying."

Dean glances over at Isabeau, "You did it to save her?"

"She had cancer, they'd stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying... a matter of days. So yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot." Evan explains.

Dean nods, "Did you ever think about her in all this?"

"I did this for her."

Dean advances on him, "You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?"

Sam puts a hand on Dean's chest, pulling him back, "Okay, that's enough. You just sit tight, all right? We're going to figure this out."

Dean leaves the room and Isabeau stares after him, before following, "Dean…"

Sam follows them into the hallway, "You all right?" He asks Dean.

Dean turns to Sam and Isabeau, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Hey, I got an idea." He pulls out the Goofer dust, handing it to Sam, "You two throw George's hoodoo at that Hellhound, keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon."

Isabeau eyes widened and she grabs his arm, "Summon— are you nuts?"

Dean clicks his tongue, "Maybe a little. But I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent."

Sam shakes his head, "Yeah, but how much time?"

"I don't know, a while. I mean, it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine." Dean says.

Isabeau scoffs, "No. No way."

"You're not allowed to say no, Beau, not unless you've got a better idea." Dean challenges her. She wanted to say that she could go and fix it herself. She knew that she could.

"Dean, you can forget it, all right? We're not letting you summon that demon." Sam firmly stands his ground on the matter.

"Why not?" Dean asks.

"Because I don't like where your head is at right now, that's why not."

Dean blinks, "What are you talking about?"

Sam nods, "You know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroads, Dean, and I think I know why."

"We don't have time for this." He brushes past Sam and Isabeau, but is stopped by a single word.

"Dad." Sam starts, "You think maybe Dad made one of these deals, huh? Hell. I've been thinking it. I'm sure you've been thinking it too."

Dean turns to face them, "It fits, doesn't it? I'm alive, Dad's dead. The yellow-eyed demon was involved. What if he did? What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul?" He says quietly.

Isabeau looks over to the room as she hears low growls from outside. "I think I hear it! It's outside!" Evan shouts from the room.

"Just keep him alive, okay?" Dean asks.

Isabeau steps forward, grabbing his arm, stopping him, "Dean…"

Dean turns, grabbing Isabeau's face and kissing her passionately. Isabeau sighs, reciprocating the kiss. He pulls away, both staring into each other's eyes. Dean didn't want to admit it, but he would do the same thing Evan did if anything ever happened to Isabeau. If he lost her again, he would do anything to bring her back.

"Don't…" Isabeau let's out a shaky breath, "Don't you dare make any deals. Because I will break it the second you do. You hear me?"

Dean says nothing, still staring down at her.

Isabeau bites her lips, tears pooling, "You hear me, Dearie?" She repeats. She didn't want to think about dragging his ass out of hell. Not now, not ever.

He swallows, "I hear you." He gives her one last passionate kiss and pushes her back lightly, "Go!" Dean turns and walks away from his girlfriend and brother.