Kate: I'm incredibly glad that you're enjoying all my stories, and I'm especially glad you were suggested to read this by a friend! Continue reading! And thanks for the great comment!
Lindsay: I'm glad you enjoyed the pool scene! And I'm definitely psyched that you enjoyed my writing – keep enjoying, please! Stay tuned for Part 5! "Playthings" was an AWESOME episode, definitely reminded me of The Shining and Rose Red – the references were fun.
Ghostwriter: As always, thanks for the encouragement, and I hope you will continue reading!
Spuffyshipper: Thanks for your loyalty for reading for so long! I'm almost done, and sad about it, but I'm soo excited about Part 5!
IheartPadalecki: Thanks for the review! Please continue reading and please continue to leave me feedback!
A/N: I also thought it was funny how "Playthings" was about Hodou/Hoodoo…(lol)…how ironic. It's actually another term used for Voodoo. Funny how things are…and the pool scene…made me grin too…
O.O.O.O.O.
Chapter Seventeen – The Vodouisant
The dark figure was muttering something. The hood covered their entire head and even their face. The lips moved slowly, as if praying silently, while stroking the vile around its neck. There were candles lit and smaller ones were arranged around Isabella's photograph.
O.O.O.O.O.
Dean, Sam, and Amy ran down unfamiliar, beige steps.
They kept running until they saw a door with a small sign reading: STAFF ONLY.
O.O.O.O.O.
The figure, continuing to mutter something under their breath, almost ripped the vile clean off their neck, due to surprise, as the door was suddenly kicked opened.
Dean stepped through first, rifle pointed directly at the figure, eyes wide with fury and an eagerness to unveil the masked villain.
Sam came in slowly, using his hand to try and direct Amy out of the way. He (and Dean) had forgotten Amy had been in similar situations. Dean and Sam were usually the hunters and there was a person who was usually in their way. But Amy was Isabella's friend – and nothing was keeping her out of that basement. Now Amy was one of them.
The three kept a careful eye on the figure, whose face was still hidden away through the darkness.
Dean tossed the rifle to Sam, who caught it swiftly, then pulled out a gun. The sound of the hammer being pulled back made a tiny click! throughout the basement. Keeping his gaze right at the tall figure, Dean smirked and noted, "Going for the dramatics are we?"
The figure kept quiet, staring blankly at the three of them.
"I knew it was you…" Sam explained, pointing the rifle at the Vodouisant. "I don't completely understand why…"
"So…" the deep voice laughed. He lifted his hand, still gloved, to pull the hood back.
Hunter Austin was smiling strangely. He looked at each of them, and stared more closely at Amy, then back to Sam and Dean.
"Clever young fellows…" Hunter grinned. He took a step back, protecting the altar, and continued to touch the vile around his neck. "How did you ever figure it out?" He was mocking them.
Sam explained debonairly, "You dye your hair."
"That's not worth giving you a cookie, lad," Hunter laughed.
"One of the side effects of practicing Voodoo, as an amateur, can lead to the hair turning gray, even white…" Sam cocked his head to the side. "You also talk to yourself, very quietly, enough so that no one really notices. You have to say some sort of chant to keep control of the Rada."
"Oh goody," Hunter yawned fakely. "Someone's been doing homework."
"The vile around your neck…" Sam pointed at with the end of his rifle, "…is used to control the Rada and to keep yourself protected." He shook his head mockingly. "You Los Angeles guys…you're all the same."
Hunter shrugged and held his hands in the air defensively. "I don't see a crime here."
"You murdered Daryl Greene," Dean spat. "You caused a car accident and forced a poor girl into a coma. You tried to drown Amy…"
"I killed Greene, yes," Hunter shook his head sadly. "But I didn't cause the car accident. That was all Daryl. And drowning Professor Cromwell…it was the Rada…"
Dean held the gun more threateningly now. His nose flared; his cheeks clenched tightly.
Amy took a step forward, standing closer to Sam, and asked, "Why?"
"To help, Izzy, of course," Hunter explained gently. "She needed a boost in reputation…"
"What?" Sam snapped.
"She's not the greatest actress," Hunter explained, "but she has the potential…and, one day, while I was miserable…I had an idea. Eureka! Isabella needed to be known first…before she became famous…there would have to be something big. Nothing scandalous…so I devised a plan. A car accident. Poor thing. And she's in a comatose state. And think of the poor parents who have to pull the cord because of their daughter's wishes…and…just as they pull the plug…Isabella springs to life! Clinically dead for a minute or so…" Hunter rubbed his hands together, admiring the sound of his own voice too much. "It was great. Although Daryl was messing with things…and then Izzy only gets into two stories in the newspapers! And one of them…isn't really based on her…" He snapped his head to Amy's direction. "Thus, the drowning…"
"We're stopping this, Hunter," Dean grinned. He took a step closer to Hunter and to the altar.
Hunter shook his head and laughed. "I've always imagined this…the great, evil monologue. I grew up in the acting business people. You actually thought I'd make it this easy…"
The room grew uneasy, Sam looked at Dean, who looked at Amy, who was staring, terrified, at Hunter.
The same pressure, the exact one that had attacked Amy at the pool, swept toward Dean suddenly. He was knocked off his feet and flew against one of the large pipes.
"DEAN!-" Sam began, moving closer to his sibling, but felt his body being pushed back forcefully. He crashed into Amy first and then the two fell together against the hard, cold floor.
Amy ached while lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling that was at least twelve-thirteen feet high.
Hunter was giggling moronically. "See!" He touched the vile. "And the Rada follows my command!" He laughed, slapping his stomach.
Rolling onto her side, Amy watched, horrified, as Hunter approached Dean, yanked him by the throat, and held the fallen gun to Dean's head.
"No!" Sam yelled forcefully. He and Amy got up slowly to their knees, but Hunter pressed the gun harder to Dean's temple.
"Another move…and we're going to have an issue…" Hunter threatened. He was smiling again. "And think of this story…pathetic, lunatic, psychotic fans of Isabella Jamison…upset they could never get near her…decide to use a voodoo ritual to harm her…they plan the car accident…cutting the brake line…and then, on the night that Isabella dies…" His smile grew wider. "The three kill themselves…" He began to laugh lowly. "I find that to be a lovely turn of things."
Before anyone could react –
Dean pulled out the pocket knife and stabbed it into Hunter's arm – the one in which he was holding the gun. Hunter reeled his arm back, screaming, dropping the gun onto the floor.
"The altar!" Sam yelled, crawling to his feet.
Dean jumped up, kicking down the screaming agent, and pushed the table over. Pebbles, rose petals, and all, fell onto the floor. The picture of Isabella was broken free from its frame.
"The vile!" Amy screamed after Sam, who was already kneeling down to Hunter.
He had just pulled the knife from his arm, bleeding all over the floor, when Sam reached down and pulled the vile from his neck. Hunter screamed, trying to reach it with his good arm.
He jumped back, and Sam, pursing his lips, threw the vile onto the ground, watching it shatter into tiny pieces. Sam finished it off with giving a final stomp onto the remains.
"Nooo!" Hunter choked out, holding his bloody arm.
Dean, walking slowly toward Hunter, bent down slightly and threw his fist downward, hitting Hunter square in the cheek, causing the man to be knocked unconscious. He remained quietly on the floor, while Dean limped slightly to his brother. His ankle hurt from the landing he had had from hitting one of the pipes.
Amy walked toward the boys, touching Dean's arm, and looked down at Hunter.
The three turned to look at what remained of the altar. The question now was what would happen to Isabella…
O.O.O.O.O.
Dean held Amy's hand while they ran through the halls of the hospital. Sam led the way, finding that Isabella's room was crowded with people.
Amy realized this to be Isabella's friends and relatives. The ten or so of them stood outside the hospital room, peering in, weeping and hugging one another.
Dean pushed pass the family and friends politely, still holding onto Amy while he led the way, and Sam followed close behind.
They blocked the entrance, upsetting some relatives, who then moved to look through the glass window.
Isabella was being kissed and cried on by her mother. Hero wept loudly, having Greg rub her shoulder from behind.
And Isabella was smiling. She was sitting up in her bed, still weak, feeling her mother's powerful arms around her. Vic was standing on the other side, sitting down, smiling and wiping a tear away. There was Grammy, sitting in the corner, with an impressed look on her face when Dean, Sam, and Amy looked her way. There was another man whom the three did not recognize. He was handsome, tall, with black hair, wearing a rugged outfit. It was Izzy's father, Matt.
The entire family was still soaking up the joy from the sudden (and random) awakening of Isabella Jamison.
Hero looked up, surprised to see Dean, Sam, and Amy, and smiled, as if the others hadn't noticed Isabella was away.
She was still pale, and her hair was flat and oily, but Isabella's soft grin made the others smile back happily.
"Sam…Dean…Amy…" Isabella whispered gently. Her voice was hoarse.
Hero, looking oddly from Isabella to Dean and Sam, forgot instantly that her daughter had never met the Winchesters. She continued to hug her daughter, and felt her ex-husband's arm on her shoulder too.
The family continued their celebration of happy weeping. Isabella continued to smile, her gaze never left the three standing in the doorway of her room.
O.O.O.O.O.O.
Dean, Sam, and Amy sat in the Waiting Room of the hospital. At eight o'clock at night, the news report focused mainly on the story of Hunter Austin – crazy lunatic who was trying to use "voodoo" to curse his client, Isabella Jamison.
The news story showed Hunter being forced into a cop car. He was still wearing the robe, and his arm had been bandaged up. He was screaming, not at anyone, but to himself. Hunter was still trying to use the same chant he had used before when he had the vile.
Dean shook his head, laughed, and sank into his seat sleepily. "Finally…" he sighed. "We're done."
Sam laughed and nudged Amy playfully. "'Guess we get that vacation now…"
"Looks like…" Amy agreed.
O.O.O.O.O.
Two days later…
It was Techno night at the club. Flashing red, blue, and purple lights filled the place. People from twenty-one to thirty-something danced with glow sticks.
Amy, dressed simply in black slacks and a white halter, nursing a beer at a large, round table, and laughed continuously as she watched her friend Erin trying to get Dean to dance. He wasn't much of a night-club person. He was a bar man, all the way. He was laughing, fakely, trying to make excuses to keep Amy from being lonely. He turned, caught her gaze, and pleaded with her telepathically to come save him. Amy shook her head, laughing, and then found Sam in the same exact position – Rochelle had him tight in her grasp.
The Winchesters had come in dress they usually wore: torn jeans, with Sam in a casual blue button-up shirt and Dean in a gray T-shirt.
It hadn't taken long for Dean and Sam to find an escape and make their way toward Amy – with the rest of the girls following. Erin and Rochelle walked coolly beside Dean and Sam, with Violet, Dana, and KC still back at the dance floor.
The waitress brought over the group's drinks as Dean took his seat beside Amy, leaning over to kiss her jawbone, and then took care of his own beer.
Sam was caught in between Rochelle and Erin. He smiled at each of the ladies, sweetly handing them each of their drinks from the center of the table.
"You boys need to loosen up," Rochelle laughed. "Not used to this sort of thing?"
"We prefer bars," Dean grinned, winking at Rochelle playfully. "Best play to pick up women too." He felt Amy's elbow into his side, coughed, and continued to laugh sarcastically.
Amy shook her head and said, "I'm glad though that we're here – you guys may be miserable – but you have to admit, it's finally a vacation."
"Amen," Sam agreed, drinking his beer.
Erin, drinking a martini, asked, "Isn't there another one who should be here?"
Amy nodded: "Isabella should be showing up soon."
"I can't believe it…" Sam sighed. He looked up at Dean and Amy. "Just…ya know…her being out-and-about…"
"She's feeling better every second," Amy added happily. "She needed a night away from her parents – her mom never leaves her side…"
Erin, putting her beer down, slapped her hands together and announced, "Dancing time!" Rochelle added a "Yeah!" and began to pull on Sam's arm. He waved his hand, laughing.
Sam: "Sorry girls, need a break."
When Erin looked Dean's way, he gave the same look Sam had given, and she and Rochelle left to go back to the dance floor.
Amy shook her head, laughing behind her friends, and leaned closer into Dean. She turned to the Winchesters, smiling, and said, "T-G-I-F."
"Amen to that sister," Dean rolled his eyes, holding his bottle up. Sam did the same.
The three heard Amy's name being called from a distance. Amy was glad she wasn't the only one who could hear it. She, Dean, and Sam turned and, heading their way, was a gorgeous young woman, dressed in a turquoise dress, walking toward them.
Her hair was straightened and swaying gently against her collarbones. She was back in color – cheeks and lips to their usual red – and she had more energy than she had had in years.
"Izzy," Amy smiled, standing from her seat to embrace her friend.
Isabella smiled, hugging Amy tightly, and when the two women released, they grinned and Isabella took a seat beside Amy.
"You look great," Dean commented.
"Thanks," Isabella said. Her voice was quiet; she was trying not to strain her throat so much.
"How are you feeling?" Sam inquired, passing a beer Isabella's way.
The twenty-one-year-old beauty took the beer, took a sip, and smiled widely. "I feel great…so…much more alive…"
"And 3-D," Amy laughed, "that's the best part."
"Yes, being back in my own skin feels great," Isabella tilted her head to the side.
"So how are things?" Sam asked, relaxing in his tall stool.
"Well," Isabella began, "my dad wants to stay in town for three weeks. Just to hang out, I guess. Mom and Greg are good. Vic too. And Hunter must be quite happy in his jail cell with a twelve-year-inmate…" She held her breath for the last part, creating dramatic tension. She licked her bottom lip and announced, "I'm moving back home."
"Wait, here!" Amy questioned happily. "Oh, really. Why?"
"Obviously the acting thing may take a while," Isabella sighed. "And I wouldn't mind maybe going back to school – not Northwestern – but just take a few classes, you know? And I really want to be closer to my family…I need a break from Cali."
"Here here," Sam agreed, holding his bottle in the air, and the four beers clanked together in a toast.
The four of them laughed in conversation and drinking. The girls from the dance floor continued to call everyone over.
Amy gave them the "one minute" finger. She turned to Dean and Sam and asked, "So, how long are you guys staying?"
"A week," Dean explained, "at the most. We have to get on the road as soon as we can."
"Still a job to do," Sam added.
"You know, you guys…" Isabella jumped in. "I never really…umm…thanked you…" She smiled at Dean and Sam with admiration and thankfulness. "You saved me. You all did." She turned to Amy, smiling too.
Dean shook his shoulders, as if shivering, and mumbled, "I'm around females way too much."
Isabella and Amy laughed, and Sam got up from his stool and he held his hand out to Isabella. He was trying to give Amy and Dean alone-time, but was also in a celebrating mood for Isabella. The young woman smiled at Amy, then turned to Sam's offer and took it gently in her small hand.
The two walked to the dance floor, Sam would most likely stand there while Izzy was having fun. They were chatting, and giggling, and Dean nodded his head approvingly. "Good ol' Sammy…"
"Is this how most supernatural events end…" Amy leaned her face closer to Dean's. "One, or both of you, gets the girl?"
Dean pursed his lips, stared up at the ceiling, and grinned. "Actually, yes."
Amy grabbed his arm but he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her closer to him. He held her face in his hand and kissed her, cupping her chin and letting his fingertips rest on her neck. She reached around him too, resting her arm on his back, and touching his scruffy chin.
He pulled away quickly (but playfully) and said, "After all…I'm Batman, and Sam's Robin…he rarely gets the girl."
"Batman, huh?" Amy laughed heartedly.
"What?" Dean asked seriously. "I am Batman. I have the weapons and the kick-ass Batmobile. And I look dead sexy in black…and anything else, for that matter." He grinned. There it was. That smile. Amy couldn't go a long time without seeing it.
The playful smile disappeared from her face. She looked down a bit, almost looking sad.
Dean lifted her chin with his finger. "Hey, what's wrong?"
Amy shrugged and said, "Before…it was four months Dean without seeing you. And after a week…you'll be gone again. How long? And I know you don't know for sure…but I…" She gulped and half-smiled. "I'm already missing you."
Dean, still touching her face, used his other hand to reach down and hold her hand in his.
"Batman always did have the crappy-relationship loopholes, didn't he?" Dean sighed.
Amy smiled, making Dean smile too.
She whispered, "I just know how long I can go without having this smile."
He grinned, cocking his head toward her, and he leaned in again to kiss her. It was a small press-against-the-lips kiss, but he moved his lips to her neck and then returned to gazing into her eyes.
"So, what does that make?" Amy asked, Dean looked at her quizzically. "Catwoman…one of the many bimbos Batman has probably had…" She laughed and said, "And remember, I'm allergic to cats."
Dean, pulling her close again, whispered into her ear, "You're the hot professor."
"Good," Amy nodded. She turned to Dean, seriously, and said, "Promise me something."
"Anything," Dean replied.
The serious look turned humorous. She bit her upper lip and said, "You'll never wear rubber or tights."
O.O.O.O.O.