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

Isabeau runs her fingers through her hair as she stares at the motel walls; they are covered in maps, hand-written notes, and a MISSING poster showing Ava's face.

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Ellen." Sam hangs up his phone while sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop open.

Dean walks into their room, " What'd she have to say?"

Sam glances over, "Oh, she's got nothing. Us, We've been checking every database I can think of- federal, state, and local. No one's heard anything about Ava, she just... into thin air, you know?"

"Huh." Dean hands over one of the two cups of coffee he's carrying to Sam. He then walks over to Isabeau as she turns around, handing her a cup of tea.

"What about you?" Isabeau asks as Dean places a kiss on her temple.

Dean shakes his head, "No, same as before. Sorry, guys." Him and Isabeau walk over to Sam.

"Ellen did have one thing." Sam says.

Dean hums, "Hmm?"

Sam clicks his tongue, "A hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut. Two freak accidents in the past three weeks."

"Yeah? What's that have to do with Ava?" Dean asks, walking over to one of the motel beds. Isabeau stays, leaning against the table with a raised brow while she sips her drink.

"It's a job. I mean, a lady drowned in the bathtub; then a few days ago a guy falls down the stairs, head turns a complete one-eighty. Which isn't exactly normal, you know?" Sam explains. Dean nods, thinking and takes off his jacket.

Sam looks at Isabeau and she just shrugs, "It's something. Why not?"

Sam nods and then looks back at Dean, "Look, I don't know, Dean, it might be nothing, but I told Ellen we'd think about checking it out."

"You did?" Dean asks.

"Yeah. You seem surprised."

Dean takes a seat on the edge of the bed, "Well yeah, it's just, you know. not the, uh, patented Sam Winchester way, is it?"

"What way is that?" Sam says, mildly challenging.

"Oh boy." Isabeau barely whispers out to herself, taking another sip of her tea.

"I just figured after Ava there'd be, uh, you know, more angst and droopy music and staring out the rainy windows, and-"

Sam and Isabeau give him a look. Dean shakes his head, "Yeah, I'll shut up now." He moves to lay on the bed and lean back against the headboard with his coffee.

Sam gets up from his spot, walking out of the kitchen, "Look. Isabeau and I are the ones who told her to go back home. Now her fiancé's dead and some demon has taken her off to God knows where. You know?"

Sam stops at the other bed, sitting down, facing toward Dean, "But we've been looking for a month now, and we've got nothing. So…" He exchanges a look with Isabeau, "We're not giving up on her, but we're not going to let other people die either. We've got to save as many people as we can."

Dean nods, "Wow. That attitude is just way too healthy for me, and I'm officially uncomfortable now. Thank you."

Sam ducks his head and laughs. Isabeau, in the kitchen, chuckles.

"All right, call Ellen. Tell her we'll take it." Dean says.

"I got it." Isabeau comments, walking over to her boyfriends. She pulls out her phone while laying down on Dean's bed sideways, her head dangling off the edge in front of Sam.

She clicks the buttons on her phone a couple times before pressing it to her ear. Isabeau smiles as Sam smiles down at her, running his fingers through her hair dangling off the bed.

"Harvelle Roadhouse." Ellen answers on the other line.

"Hi Ellen." Isabeau greets.

Ellen smiles on the other line, happy to hear her goddaughter, "BoBo, what's up?"

"You know that case in CT you talked to Sam about?"

"Yeah?"

Isabeau smiles, "We'll take it."

The roads are wet and the air misty as Sam, Isabeau and Dean park the impala in front of the inn. Sam and Isabeau get out on the passenger side while Dean gets out of the driver's side, "Dude, this is sweet. I never get to work jobs like this."

"Like what?" Sam asks as Isabeau hands him his own bag and she grabs hers from the backseat.

Dean grabs his own bags, "Old school haunted houses, you know? Fog, and secret passageways... sissy British accents. Might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside." He closes his eyes briefly, "Mmm, Daphne. Love her."

Isabeau wacks his arm and in response, Dean wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him, "Don't worry, sweetheart. You're way better than Daphne."

Isabeau laughs, "Of course I am. No offense to Daphne, but, uh, no thank you on playing the always damsel in distress. Though I will say, Velma and Shaggy were my first cartoon crushes." She says with a smile and Dean returns it, placing a light kiss on her lips.

As they go up the steps, Sam notices an urn on the side of the porch, "Hey, wait a sec."

Dean and Isabeau turn around while Sam inspects the urn more closely, "I'm not so sure haunted's the problem."

Isabeau and Dean walk over to the urn as well, "What do you mean?" Dean asks.

"You see this pattern here?" Sam asks, tapping a five-point symbol engraved in the urn, "That's a quincunx, that's a five-spot."

"Five-spot." Dean repeats.

"Yeah." Sam affirms.

"That's used for hoodoo spellwork, isn't it?" Dean asks.

Isabeau nods, "Right, yeah. You fill this thing with bloodweed and you've got a powerful charm to ward off enemies."

Dean looks around, "Yeah, except I don't see any bloodweed. Don't you think this place is a little too, uh, whitemeat for hoodoo?"

Isabeau shrugs, "Maybe."

As they enter, looking around at the quiet interior, Susan, the owner, enters briskly. "May I help you?" She asks.

"Hi, yeah, I'd like a room for a couple of nights." Dean says, holding Isabeau's hand as they walk to the desk.

As Sam moves in, Tyler darts in front of his legs, chased by Maggie, who runs behind him.

"Hey!" Susan calls out then turns to Sam, "Sorry about that."

Sam shakes his head, standing next to Isabeau, "No problem." His broken hand reaches down to grab Isabeau's other hand s Dean let hers go to sign the guest book.

"Well, um, congratulations, you could be some of our final guests." Susan says.

Isabeau blinks, "Well, sounds vaguely ominous." She jokes and Sam and Dean give her a small smile.

"No, I'm sorry, I mean we're closing at the end of the month." She appraises them, "Well, let me guess. You guys are here antiquing?"

Isabeau's eyes widened, understanding the meaning of her question. Her lip trembles as she forces herself not to burst out laughing. I mean, her implication wasn't exactly wrong, but it was hilarious the way she asked.

Dean shares a 'why not?' look with Sam, "How'd you know?"

Isabeau closes her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. This was absolutely funny as shit. She couldn't believe that her boyfriends didn't catch on to Susan's implication.

Susan gives him a knowing smile, "Oh, you just look the type."

Dean looks vaguely uncomfortable.

"So, uh, king-sized bed?" Susan asks and Dean's eyes widened. Dear lord have mercy on Isabeau's soul cause she was ready to fall to the floor in a heep of giggles.

"What? No, uh, no, we're, we're... two singles. We're just brothers." Sam shakes his, trying to clear the situation.

Susan looks back and forth between Sam and Dean, "Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry." Susan's gaze lands on Isabeau, not knowing how she fit in with the brothers.

Isabeau smiles, sending Susan a wink, "I'm an antiquer."

Sam gives her a look before looking back at Susan with a smile. Isabeau lightly hits Sam as his hand disappears behind her, squeezing her ass in warning.

Isabeau just smiles; she was having too much with this.

"What'd you mean that we look the type?" Dean asks, curious of Susan's assumptions.

Susan has trouble articulating an answer.

Deciding not to torture her boyfriends even more, Isabeau directs the conversation to a different topic, "You know, speaking of antiques, you have a really, really interesting urn on the front porch. Where did you get that?"

Susan shakes her head, "Oh, I have no idea, it's been there forever." She hands Dean his card, "Here you go, Mr. Mahagov."

"Thanks." Dean says.

Susan dings the bell on the desk, "You'll be staying in room 237." She hands Dean a key, "Sherwin, could you show these gentlemen to their rooms?"

As she says this, The three turn to see an old, balding man in a black blazer shuffling up behind Dean. Sherwin looks at all three of them, "Let me guess. Antiquers?"

Isabeau bites her lip; seriously, she was ready to combust into a pile of giggles.

Sherwin drags Dean's clunking duffel bag behind him, up the steps, as the three follow. "I could give you a hand with that bag." Dean offers.

"I got it." Sherwin immediately answers.

"Okay."

"So the hotel's closing up, huh?" Sam asks.

"Yep. Miss Susan tried to make a go of it, but the guests just don't come like they used to. Still, it's a damn shame." Sherwin says.

Isabeau hums, "Oh yeah?"

"It may not look it anymore, but this place was a palace. Two different vice-presidents laid their heads on our pillows. My parents worked here, I practically grew up here. Gonna miss it."

"Here's your room." He slips the key in the lock and opens the door, handing the key to Sam as he and Isabeau brush past.

Dean turns to shut the door and Sherwin is standing there, hand extended expectantly, "You're not gonna... cheap out on me, are you, boy?"

Isabeau snorts a little, placing her things on the bed and helps Sam with his.

Dean shrugs annoyed as he pulls out his wallet.

Sam and Isabeau are sitting next to each other, sifting through papers, and Dean is pacing. He chuckles as he approaches what appears to be an antique wedding dress displayed on a wall like a ghost, "What the-"

Sam looks over, "What?" Isabeau looks up from her own papers.

"That's normal." Dean gestures to the dress, "Why the hell would anyone stay here? I'm amazed they kept in business this long." He walks over to one of the beds, sinking into immediately.

"All right. Victim number one: Joan Edison, forty three years old, a realtor handling the sale of the hotel; and victim number two was Larry Williams, moving some stuff out to Goodwill." Sam explains.

"Well, there's a connection: they're both tied up in shutting the place down." Dean points out.

Isabeau hums, crossing her legs, "Yeah. Maybe somebody here doesn't want to leave, and they're using hoodoo to fight back."

"Who do you think our witch doctor is, that Susan lady?" He asks.

Isabeau shakes her head, "No, doesn't seem likely. I mean, she is the one selling."

"So what then, Sherwin?"

"I don't know." Sam says.

"Of course, the most troubling question is why do these people assume we're gay?" Dean asks.

And finally, Isabeau bursts out in a fit of giggles, sliding deeper into her chair, hiding her face with the papers in her hands, "Oh god, you have no idea how much I've been holding myself back."

Isabeau peeks over her papers, seeing both of her boyfriends staring at her amused by her antics. They both also thought that whenever Isabeau fell into giggles, they thought it was the cutest thing. "What?" Isabeau asks.

Sam shakes his head, "Nothing, Beau." Sam then looks over at Dean, "Well, you are kinda butch. Probably think you're overcompensating."

Dean gives him a mocking laugh, "Right."

Isabeau falls into giggles again at Sam's words and Dean glares at her playfully, "You find that hilarious huh, sweetheart?"

Isabeau sets down her papers and bites her lip, "A little."

"Oh, you're going to get it!" Dean says getting up from his bed.

Isabeau laughs, jumping out of her seat and running away from Dean as he tries to catch her. Sam watches on with a laugh as his brother and girlfriend run around the room like two teenagers.

Sam, Isabeau and Dean poke around the hallways, Isabeau sees another urn and picks it up. It too, has a quincunx inscribed, "Hey. Look at that. More hoodoo."

They approach a door marked 'PRIVATE' and Dean knocks. Susan opens the door. Isabeau's eyes widened the second she saw the contents of the room and hid behind Sam, clenching tightly onto the back of his shirt, shaking.

Sam glances at Isabeau behind him, confused at her actions.

"Hi there." Dean greets.

"Hi. Everything okay with your room?" Susan asks.

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah, everything's great. Yeah." Sam and Dean say talking over each other. Isabeau would have commented on it, but she was too focused on being frozen in fear at the items in the room.

"Well, I was, I was just in the middle of packing, so…" Susan trails off.

"Hey!" Dean says, looking past her, "Are those antique dolls?"

Sam reaches back discreetly with his hand, rubbing Isabeau's side to calm her down. Antique dolls; Isabeau was terrified of them on the same level he was terrified as clowns. Though, her fear was also much broader than just antique dolls; any inanimate objects that were human-like such as antique dolls, wax-figures and mannequins.

"Because this one," Dean was about to gesture to Isabeau, but the second he saw her practically cowering in fear at the dolls, he gestured to Sam, "This one here, he's got a major doll collection back home. Dontcha? Huh?"

Isabeau swallows; if that were a true statement, Isabeau would've burned every last one of those evil looking things.

Sam shoots Dean a look, "Big time."

Dean grins, "Big time. You think he could come- or we could come in and take a look?"

Isabeau looks at Dean in fear. Oh, if he makes her go in there, no sex for either of them for a week.

"I don't know…" Susan says unsure.

"Please? I mean, he loves them. He's not gonna tell you this, but he's, he's always dressing 'em up in these little tiny outfits and, um, you'd make his day. You- she would, huh? Huh?" Dean grins at Sam.

"It's true." Sam says deadpan, looking sick at saying those words. Isabeau was right there with him.

Susan nods with a smile, "Okay. Come on in."

"All right. All right!" Dean slaps Sam on the back as Sam walks in; Sam shoots him a death glare.

Isabeau freezes at the doorway, letting go of Sam and staring into the room with fear. Dean leans over and whispers into her ear, "Hey, you can hide in my chest. You would just walk in with us and you can close your eyes as I hold you okay?"

Isabeau begins to breathe heavily, "Dean… I…"

"Baby steps, Isabeau. Sam and I are going to be with you the entire time." Dean says.

"You won't let go?" She whispers.

Dean nods, "I won't let go."

Isabeau nods, instantly going into Dean's chest, wrapping her arms around his torso, and pressing her face into his chest, closing her eyes. Dean smiles softly at her, wrapping his arms around her and carefully walks into the room with her.

Susan tilts her head at the exchange, closing the door behind them, finding it sweet that Dean was helping Isabeau slowly get over her fear.

Sam glances back over at Isabeau, knowing that this was a huge step for her and she was probably itching to run straight out of this room… or burn every single doll in here.

"Wow. This is a lot of dolls. I mean, they're nice, you know. Not super creepy at all." Dean comments, finding Isabeau's fear of dolls reasonable. Antique dolls were very creepy. He caresses Isabeau's head as her grip tightens around Dean.

Susan chuckles,"Yeah, I suppose they are a little creepy. But they've been in the family forever. A lot of sentimental value."

"What is this? The hotel?" Sam asks, pointing to a replica of the hotel that also acted as a dollhouse.

Susan nods, "Yeah, that's right. Exact replica, custom built."

Sam leans down and picks up a broken doll. He frowns, "His head got twisted around." He lifts the doll up to show Dean. "What happened to it?" Sam asks.

Susan shakes her head, "Tyler, probably."

Tyler runs in, "Mommy! Maggie's being mean." Isabeau's eyes blink open at Tyler's voice and she stares at the child, her fear of dolls gone in that split moment.

"Tyler, tell her I said to be nice, okay?" Susan says to her daughter.

"Hey, Tyler. I see you broke your doll. You want me to fix it?" Sam asks. Isabeau smiles a little at Sam's offer.

Tyler steps forward, "I didn't break it. I found it like that."

"Oh. Well, uh, maybe Maggie did it." Sam suggests.

"No, neither of us did it. Grandma would get mad if we broke 'em."

"Tyler, she wouldn't get mad." Susan says.

"Grandma?" Dean asks, taking a step forward. Isabeau closes her eyes again; the fear back in full force.

"Grandma Rose. These were all her toys." Tyler answers.

Dean nods, looking over at the dolls next to him and Isabeau, "Oh. Really. Where's Grandma Rose now?" He asks.

"Up in her room."

"You know, I'd, I'd uh," Sam chuckles, "I'd really love to talk to Rose about her incredible doll-"

"No." Susan says suddenly, "I mean, I'm afraid that's impossible. My mother's been very sick and she's not taking any visitors."

Sam, Dean and Isabeau exit the room. Isabeau pulls away from Dean and leans against the railing, taking in deep breaths. "I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight knowing that's just a few doors down from us." She breathes out.

"Isabeau, hey, it's okay." Sam says quietly, "Come here."

Isabeau turns around and Sam cups her face, placing a light kiss on her forehead. Isabeau sighs, taking a few more breaths, "I'm good."

Sam pulls away and they start walking down the hall. "Well, what do you think? Dolls, hoodoo, mysterious shut-in grandma?" Dean asks.

Isabeau clears her throat, hugging herself, "Well, dolls are used in all kinds of voodoo and hoodoo, like curses, and binding spells, and…"

"Yeah, maybe we've found our witch doctor." Dean says. "All right, Isabeau and I will see what we can go dig up on boomin' Granny. You go get online, check old obits, freak accidents, that sort of thing, see if she's whacked anybody before."

"Right." Sam says, taking out their hotel key.

Isabeau and Dean walk away from Sam. "Don't go surfing porn- that's not the kind of whacking I mean." Dean comments. Isabeau gives him a look at his words.

Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to the room as Dean and Isabeau leave.

Sam stares through a lace-curtained window. He watches the coroner cart away the lawyer's body. Frustrated, he walks away from the window.

Dean and Isabeau are outside, and meet Susan as she comes back towards the inn.

"What happened?" Isabeau asks.

Susan stops in front of them, "Oh, the maid went in to turn down the sheets and he was just... hanging there."

"That's awful. He was a guest?" Dean asks.

Susan nods, "He worked for the company that bought the place."

Dean hums, "Hmm."

"I don't understand."

Isabeau furrows her brow, "What?"

"Had a lot of bad luck around here. Look, if you'd like to check out I'll give you a full refund." Susan offers.

Dean shakes his head, "No thanks. We don't scare that easy."

Sam is sitting alone in the dark with the door half-open and the key askew in the lock. Dean and Isabeau enter and Isabeau shuts the door behind them, taking the key as well.

"There's been another one. Some guy just hung himself in his room." Dean walks past Sam as Isabeau stands behind her younger boyfriend, hands in her pockets.

"Yeah. I saw." Sam says darkly. Isabeau tilts her head in confusion at Sam's tone.

"We've gotta figure this out, and fast. What'd you find out about Granny?" Dean asks.

"You're bossy." Sam says.

Isabeau crouches down next to Sam, staring at him, partially amused and confused. She sniffs at the air and then grimaces; Sam's been drinking.

Dean looks around in surprise, "What?"

"You're bossy. And short." Sam laughs sloppily at Dean. He then looks at Isabeau, bopping her nose, "And you're cute and sexy at the same time… How is that possible?" Sam asks her, tilting his head.

Isabeau looks over at Dean, not knowing how to respond to her obviously drunk boyfriend.

"Are you drunk?" Dean asks.

"Yeah. So? Stupid." Sam says.

Dean looks around and sees several empty bottles, "Dude, what are you thinking? We're working a case."

"That guy who hung himself. I couldn't save him." Sam says tearfully, staring at nothing.

Isabeau speaks softly, "What are you talking about? You didn't know, you couldn't have done anything."

Sam shifts his gaze to Isabeau, "That's an excuse, Isabeau. I should have found a way to save him. I should have saved Ava too." Isabeau sighs. She was also responsible for Ava, so it pained her to see Sam take it so much harder compared to her.

Dean approaches Sam, "Yeah, well, you can't save everyone. Even you said that."

Sam slams the table, "No, Dean, you don't understand, all right? The more people I save, the more I can change!" Isabeau flinches at the loud noise, but doesn't step away from Sam.

Dean shakes his head, "Change what?"

Sam leans forward, hands to chest, "My destiny, Dean!"

"All right. Time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch." He leans over and hauls Sam up by the shoulders, "Come on."

Isabeau stands from her crouched position and watches as Dean brings him to the bed.

"I need you to watch out for me." Sam says.

"Yeah. I always do." Dean responds.

"No! No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, all right? And if I ever... turn into something that I'm not…" Sam pauses, "You have to kill me."

Isabeau's eyes widened.

"Kill me!" 17-year-old Isabeau shouts as her coven stands around her in a circle, hands locked and blood drips from their clasped hands.

"Isa, please! Fight this! This isn't you!" A 17-year-old teenage girl with long blonde curly hair and blue-green eyes shouts with tears falling down her face.

Isabeau screams out in pain as she writhes on the wooden floor, her nails digging into the wood, leaving scratch marks. Isabeau glares up at the girl, "Carmen… kill me, or I will kill you." Her eyes glow a fiery orange, growling.

Carmen shakes her head and exchanges pained looks with the rest of the coven, "We're not giving up on you, Isa. Not now, not ever."

"Sam." Dean says, dismissive.

Sam shoves Dean to face him, "Dean! Dad told you to do it, you have to."

"Yeah, well, Dad's an ass." Dean says and Sam frowns in confusion.

Dean continues, "He never should have said anything. I mean, you don't do that, you don't, you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids."

"No. He was right to say it! Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!" Sam exclaims.

Dean nods, "Yeah, well, I'm not dying, okay? Isabeau is not dying and neither are you. Come on. Sam."

He pushes Sam onto the bed, but Sam stays seated, reaching up and clutching Dean's jacket. Dean's right hand curls in the fabric at Sam's shoulder.

"No, please! Dean, you're the only one who can do it. Promise." Sam begs.

Dean shakes his head, "Don't ask that of me."

"Dean, please. You have to promise me."

Dean pauses, "I promise."

"Thanks." Sam reaches up and grabs Dean's face with both hands, "Thank you."

"All right. Come on." He bats Sam's hands away and shoves him back on the bed.

Sam falls back, then turns over on his stomach to plant his face in the pillow, hugging it with both arms.

Dean rubs a hand over his face and looks over at Isabeau. She stares down at Sam's form, tears falling down her face. She knew what it was like to be a monster. And more than once, she asked to be put down.

"Isabeau…" Dean trails off, walking over to her.

Isabeau sniffles, looking up at him sadly, "Go downstairs. Take a breather. I'll watch over him."

Isabeau walks over to the bed and frowns at Sam's form, brushing away stray hairs from his face, "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, Sam." It was just her and Sam in the room, Dean left a few minutes prior.

Sam turns his head toward her, "Isabeau, promise me-"

"No." She says immediately. "The people I love never gave up on me, so I'm not giving up on you."

A few tears fall down Sam's face, "Please-"

"No." Her lip trembles, "If I promise you, then you have to do the same for me."

"What?" Sam asks.

She smiles sadly, "I'm no saint, Sam. There were times when I begged my coven and family to kill me for what I've done. Though I wasn't really me when I did those things. If you want me to promise you, then you have to promise me that you will do the same."

Sam shakes his head, though it didn't really work as his face was squished against the pillow, "No… I could never do that."

"Then I guess we're both in the same boat… Get some sleep."

Sam grabs her hand, "Stay with me?"

Isabeau sighs, "As you wish."