Chapter Two – Just a Normal Visit

He leaned against the black Impala as the car was filling up. The Quik Trip was packed that Saturday afternoon. It felt good this time of year, luckily, Dean Winchester could relax in his heavy brown leather jacket. He crossed one ankle over the other as he waited.

His eyes turned sideways and found Sam still hanging out within the gas station. He had finished paying for the gas and two cups of coffee. This was basically breakfast for them.

Dean touched his forehead. Damn, he thought irritably. Even though they weren't noticeable, the scars from the claw marks were still there. He was reminded of the shadow demons for only a moment but he removed his finger from the four thin lines.

Sam had had it worse. He had been struck across the cheek and he also had four thin scars resting on his face. His wounds had been deeper.

They had actually been hanging out in Illinois for some time. It had just been a month ago when they had reunited with their father and dealt with Meg and the shadow demons. Dean and Sam could have easily gone to visit Amy, but there were several concerns in the process: One: They wanted to wait for their wounds to heal; Two: Both brothers feared if they approached Amy too soon, she would also be a target of the shadow demons – or whoever the hell Meg was working for; Three: Amy had been busy with work; and Four: They were hesitant to have Amy get involved.

She was a happy thought for him. Dean had dealt with so much since he had last seen her. Thinking of Amy gave him some peace. And for once, this would just be a normal visit. No ghosts. No demons. No monsters. No death-or-dying related topics.

Dean had almost died. He remembered that well. In his phone calls and e-mails to Amy, he had only told her of the Grim Reaper and the pastor's crazy wife. Sam had begged Dean to call Amy, during the time he still had the heart problem, but Dean wanted to tell her in person – but with everything that happened afterward, Dean made Sam swear to never tell Amy about what had happened to him. It would worry her too much.

Then there was the time when Dean and Sam separated a bit. Of course, they had reunited later, but it didn't change the fact Dean almost accepted the idea of splitting up with his brother once again. He would never admit to Sam how glad he was to partner up with his brother again. Dean merely told Amy they dealt with an insane town that worshipped a Pagan God – a scarecrow.

Cassie. That involved another fun-filled Winchester adventure, and Cassie was just another detail Dean left out of the story for Amy. The reunion with Cassie had been awkward – they never even touched each other until they shook hands when they were departing. But at least the job was done. The ghost was sent away along with the ghost of the "Killer Truck," as Dean mentioned in his e-mail to Amy.

Sam's premonitions getting more complicated. Amy was informed of everything that happened then. Everything that involved the teenager Max. Everything that involved Sam's new found power – telekinesis.

Amy knew of the crazy rednecks that killed for fun and that they kidnapped Sam.

But both Dean and Sam were still unsure of how to tell Amy of what happened in their last supernatural hunt. Maybe Meg and the shadow demons would be an easy story to tell – but everything with their father, the new dangers in their hunting, the brothers weren't sure if it would be a good idea to tell Amy and have her want to get involved – plus it would worry her too much.

Just a coupla hours away…Dean thought happily. He sighed at the thought. He would see Amy soon and the three of them could have a normal get-together for once. They could party, eat out, and drink, the normal routines that normal people do.

Dean removed the pump from his car and hooked it back onto Station 3. He turned around in time to see Sam slowly approaching him.

He carried the two hot cups of coffee and came around to hand Dean his breakfast.

"You okay?" Sam asked slowly as he took a sip.

Dean created that look that said: "What are you talking about?" He merely responded, "Just tired. We should get back on the road. We're close to Evanston." He licked off the bit of foam that caressed his upper lip.

Sam nodded slowly and motioned for his brother to get in the car. Dean scowled and then climbed into the driver's seat.

He wasn't sure of what to make of this. Sam knew Dean was upset with himself for forcing his father to leave the two of them. Again. They hadn't talked for a week – Sam was so upset. They had been searching so long for their father and for the thing that killed Mary Winchester and Jessica. And finally, they had their father and a possible link to killing the bastard. But Dean let him go. The right thing to do, of course. But it hurt every time Sam had to think about the moment his father got into his truck and drove away.

There had been no word from their father since then.

"You comin'?" Dean barked from the car jokingly.

Sam snapped out of the brief memory and went around to the passenger's side.

O.O.O.O.O.O.

"So, artists to know…Salvador Dali…Marc Chagall…Rene Margritte…Joan Miro…Meret Oppenheim – yes, the 'crazy lady' that covered a teacup and a spoon with fur – and Chirico. Of course you all have your list of artists – remember, that are about twenty-plus of them – but these six are the ones that your essays will be on."

Amy, attired in a short black-and-gray checkered business skirt and a white blouse, paced the floor with her thin black heels tapping across the floor. Her hair was pulled up into a bun with a few strands – curled – dangling by her face. She tapped her baton gently against her hand as she pointed toward the power point revealed on the wall.

Students were eagerly taking notes on their laptops and reminded themselves of their schedules of the next two weeks. Finals.

Professor Cromwell lazily held the baton and pointed toward a painting of Salvador Dali.

"Please note symbolism – color choices – shapes, etc.," Amy explained. "I know you have all been studying and working hard this semester – I'm glad my reputation of being a perceptive professor has spread and you've all done your homework, required reading, and writing those incredible papers…" The sixty-plus students in the class exchanged looks with friends and some laughed.

The young woman smiled to her students and looked throughout the auditorium with a grin. "Finals are coming up and I know you're all busily trying to get everything together. So take the time I give you and wisely decide what you are going to do with this. And remember…this class has not just been about identifying paintings and painters…it's the history behind these artists…looking deeper within the colors and lines. You have all shown incredible knowledge in this area. Soon, it'll be official that you're all ready to go out in the world and you can respectfully start a conversation about Michelangelo's David or talk about the many different Venus' in the world. I'm very proud…" Amy solemnly clapped her hands. "Now, everyone enjoy your Monday. I'll see you all Wednesday morning. And I look forward to reading your final papers. Good day!"

The class clapped at the end of the class – like they always did – and slowly began to gather their things.

It was a sad thought that she had less than two months left with the students. Some had become her friends – weekly luncheons and fun discussions other than art. Others had grown fond of her and she was pleased to write so many recommendation letters for transfers and job opportunities. These were excellent students.

Most of them had left when Amy turned to the desk in the front and sat down for a moment to check the rest of her schedule.

Art History – Monday – 2:30 P.M. – 3:50 P.M.

Futurism, Surrealism, & Pop Art – Tuesday – 9 A.M. – 10:30 A.M.

Art History – Wednesday – 1 P.M. – 2:20 P.M.

Art of Egypt History – Thursday – 10 A.M. – 11:30 A.M.

European Modernism & International Avant Gardes – Friday – 3 P.M. – 4:30 P.M.

She stared tiredly at her schedule. She had less Art History classes this semester, especially with the addition of another art history teacher, a sixty-five-year-old man called Professor Albert Hooter. People mocked that his class was a "hoot" and that he knew more of chisels and paint brushes than he did of actual works of artists.

But still, she enjoyed the new classes she was teaching – she specifically brought it up to the board and had it acknowledged to have an Egyptian Art History class. Who knows? There could one day be another Natiskawa fiasco.

Closing her schedule book, she placed the leather journal into her black work bag beside her seat. She sighed and peered upward to see students still hanging around in their seats engaged into deep conversation.

Her head went back down to gather three large textbooks on the corner of her desk – each book was about four inches wide in pages. She cringed at the thought of carrying them to her car.

Through the large opened doors on the bottom floor, two heads popped into the arm and glanced around.

Sam, smiling, stared in the direction of Amy's desk – and then Amy. Dean had already found her the moment his eyes shot through the room.

She looked beautiful sitting at her desk gathering her things.

The brothers entered the classroom quietly as they approached the desk.

Amy stuck two large folders into her bag when she felt like she was being approached.

She turned and let out a tiny, happy gasp.

Dean now wore a pair of clean-not-so-torn jeans and a red shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Sam was dressed in a tight blue T-shirt that showed the lines in his abs and revealed his much-stronger arms since last they met.

Amy couldn't move from her seat for a moment. She was so stunned to see them. Yes, she was expecting them, but this was more startling than she would have imagined.

She got up from her seat then, mouth dry, and straightened out her skirt.

Dean was smiling at her as Amy skipped around her desk quickly and flew to the brothers.

He walked up first and Dean was the first to catch Amy's body flying into his arms.

She was lifted off the ground a couple of inches, like always, as Dean embraced her tightly. Amy rested the lower half of her face on his shoulder as her eyes closed in sheer joy.

Dean's strong arms were wrapped around her waist as Amy's arms were wrapped around his shoulders.

She pulled away for just a moment in order to have a better position of kissing him. Dean accepted the greeting and kissed her back.

Four months…

He held her tighter against him.

It was now that the remaining students began to holler and clap their hands – the female students were giggling and clapping.

Amy smiled as she kissed Dean and pulled away slowly to stare at him.

"Hi."

"Hi," Dean grinned.

Amy laughed as she leaned her head down to kiss him again.

Dean lowered Amy back onto the floor and the couple continued to stare at each other.

Sam coughed loudly and then he did again. Amy turned to look at him and then quickly rushed to him too.

He gathered her up into his arms and Amy laughed as the two friends hugged. "Oh, Sam…" Amy whispered happily.

"Hey Amy," Sam greeted quietly. "I'm okay – you didn't have to be as happy to see me as much as you were to see Dean."

Amy rolled her eyes and pulled away quickly to kiss Sam on the cheek. "There ya go, kiddo."

Sam smiled as he placed his hands on her waist and took a good look at her. "You look great."

"So do you…" Amy smiled. But her voice faded when noted four very thin scars on his cheek. She stared at them closely and narrowed her eyes at them. "Sam-" she gasped and touched his cheek. Sam winced – not in pain, but upset that Amy now noticed – and arched his head back.

Amy narrowed her eyes at him – as a mother would do to a child – and then her gaze when to Dean.

He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to tilt his head up. But Amy noticed his scars too.

She moved closer to Dean and reached up to touch his forehead. He took hold of her wrist gently before she could touch him.

"Dean-"

"It's okay, Amy," Dean reassured. "We're okay."

"What happened?" she asked worriedly. Her eyes kept shooting back from Sam to Dean's face. "I don't remember you guys telling me about these wounds – you guys said you were always okay-"

"Our last hunt wasn't as…" Sam started slowly, "pleasant."

Amy, concerned, continued to look at the scars on Sam's face when Dean pulled her closer to him. Startled, Amy turned to him and Dean brought his face close to hers.

"Hey, we're here…" he whispered with that smile. "Let's have a fun visit, shall we? We'll tell you everything later."

Amy smiled slowly and nodded. "It's so good to see you, Dean."

"Dido."

He touched her face gently and bent down to kiss her again.

Sam, rolling his eyes, laughed and joked: "Okay, c'mon, I'm tired – let's get back to the apartment. We can reunite properly there. And I'm ready to start this vacation." He clapped his hands together and sighed in relief. No monsters for a while.

Amy turned her head awkwardly to Sam and bit her lower lip. "Umm…oh…about our visit…"

"You mean the one filled with much partying and drinking and ooh-la-la-" Dean laughed, putting a horribly-fake French accent at the end.

She tried to smile but an awkward "ha-ha" look appeared.

Dean narrowed his eyes at her oddly. "What…"

She folded her hands together and reached happily for Dean's hands. "I'm so glad that the both of you are here-" She glanced at Sam and smiled widely "it's just...well…our normal visit…it's gonna need a rain check."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest and smiled at her wryly. "What exactly are you talking about?"

"Look," Amy sighed sadly, "my friend needs your help. She's back at my apartment – waiting – and she strictly asked me that I don't explain everything until we get back home. She's unsure of how professional you two are in the area so she wants to make sure that you see her first and understand what's happening-"

"W-Wait wait wait wait…" Dean held up his hands and squinted at Amy. "You're telling me we're on the job now?"

She bit her lower lip sheepishly and the professor replied: "It's an odd case. I've done my own research. But you two are the professionals…" She looked upon the now-depressed expressions both Dean and Sam gave one another but tried to hide from her when they realized Amy noticed. "I know you guys wanted to have a normal vacation-slash-visit. Please…it's an old friend of mine…"

Dean sighed and tilted his head to Amy. He reached for Amy's hand and squeezed it gently.

Sam smiled and reached over to touch her shoulder. "It's okay. We're here for business and pleasure."

"Yeah," Dean agreed irritably. "Let's just…get the business stuff over with and move on with the pleasure stuff."

Sam and Amy both raised their eyebrows at Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes and groaned, "Not like that-"

His brother and girlfriend both laughed hysterically. Sam shook his head jokingly and Amy tiptoed up to kiss Dean on the side of his mouth. Dean pouted slightly but quickly wrapped his arm around Amy's shoulder as the three prepared to leave.

O.O.O.O.O.O.

Amy left in the white Mini Cooper while the guys followed in the Impala.

O.O.O.O.O.O.

The cars parked side by side in the apartment parking lot. They got out of their cars at the same time while Amy reached into her car and grabbed her black bag before locking the car door.

Dean and Sam walked around to the back of the car to grab their duffel bags.

Instead, as Sam went to fetch his own things, Dean took a detour and came to Amy's side.

He took the heavy textbooks from her hands and smiled.

"Ah, such a gentleman," Amy laughed.

Dean cocked his head to the side and crooned, "Yeah, I know."

Sam, taking both his bag and Dean's from the trunk, rolled his eyes and laughed.

"Maybe Big Brother can be a gentleman and help his brother out," Sam called to the couple.

They turned to him and Amy motioned for Dean to go help him.

O.O.O.O.O.O.

The three walked up the familiar steps to the third floor of the building. Sam and Dean remembered that it was a nice complex – carpeted floors and large mirrors. It was very similar to a hotel – but thankfully this was ten times better than the places the guys had been staying at lately.

Dean and Sam carried their own bags – along with some of Amy's work things – as Amy paused in front of her door – Number 607.

"Okay," Amy warned before she opened the door, "remember…you both kinda-like me…so you won't be upset at me if this case takes a bit longer than the others…it may be stressful…it may be dangerous…but KNOW…this is a friend of mine…and you two are good men at heart…and you'll help no matter what."

Dean and Sam grinned and each held up their index-and-middle fingers in the air.

"Scouts honor," Dean mocked as Sam sniffed a laugh.

Amy smiled happily at her friends. She was so happy to have them stand there before her apartment door.

This better be a good visit, she thought as she unlocked the door.

They entered the main hallway and the three of them dropped off their belongings by the door. They would settle in later.

The three came inside the living room and noticed the TV had been left on.

Amy put her hands together as she searched her apartment.

"Isabella?" she called aloud.

"Where is she?" Dean asked as he searched the room. "Bedroom? Bathroom?"

"Umm…" Amy gulped slowly. "I think it's just better that we wait 'till she comes to us…Isabella?"

Sam stared at her oddly and asked, "Is she even here?"

"She really has no excuse to go anywhere else…" Amy noted.

The two brothers looked at Amy oddly as she continued to look around the room. She didn't bother to search the guest room – where Dean and Sam both guessed this Isabella was staying at – or search any other part of the apartment.

"Isabella…" Amy crooned and closed her eyes in a frustrated way. "I hope I'm not going crazy…" she whispered to herself.

"Amy…" the three heard a voice whisper within the air.

"Whoa," Dean narrowed his eyes and looked around. He saw no one.

Amy's head looked up as she gazed around the apartment.

"Amy…" the soft voice whispered again.

"Izzy!" Amy whispered loudly.

Dean and Sam continued to look strangely through the living room. Who had called Amy's name?

Both brothers were stunned when suddenly they watched as a figure came directly out of the wall.

Each took a surprised step back and stared fearfully at the figure.

They looked at the young woman before them as her body erupted from the wall and she walked across the floor silently. She made no noise as she walked.

Her black hair rested gently beside the sides of her cheek. She looked slightly pale, and her pale blue eyes looked almost-sad.

"Isabella…" Amy breathed in relief.

Isabella stared at the stunned pair of men and waved her hand plainly at them.

Sam narrowed his eyes at her and whispered, "Hey…"

Dean widened his eyes, stretching them out, and asked, "Is she, umm, dead?"

"No," the woman replied. "I'm not."

Dean and Sam weren't exactly sure of whether or not to believe that. After all, she had just walked through a wall.

Amy turned to Dean and Sam and explained, "Guys…this is Isabella Jamison…"

"Hi," Isabella greeted, trying to put more perk into her hello but still received gaping looks from the Winchesters. "Amy," Isabella whined, "I thought you said these guys have dealt with this sorta thing before."

"They have," Amy reassured.

"Sorry," Sam apologized sweetly. "It's just…you took us off guard. Umm…" He turned to Dean and then gazed back at the solid, yet porous woman. "I'm Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean. Umm…do you mind explaining how this happened to you?"

"I'm not dead," Isabella explained once more. "My body is at the Evanston City Hospital about forty minutes away. I'm in a coma."

"You're in a coma," Dean repeated.

Isabella nodded.

Amy turned to the guys and explained, "Izzy was in a car crash about two weeks ago. According to Isabella…she woke up the street and she found herself to be like…" She stared at Isabella. "Like this."

Sam stuck his hands into his back pockets and nodded. "Okay, we'll take it from the beginning."

Sam, Isabella, and Amy both stared at Dean oddly. His mouth was parted slightly as he continued to stare at Isabella.

"Dean?" Amy asked oddly.

Dean sighed and finally turned away from Amy's friend. He walked through the trio and then slumped onto the black leather furniture.

"You okay?" Sam asked, thinking his brother was in some sort of shock.

He rested his fist beneath his chin and Dean sighed. "Just a normal visit…" he mumbled to himself.

O.O.O.O.O.O.

A/N: Hope you're all enjoying – reviews/feedback/commented appreciated! MORE COMING ASAP.