—GASOLINE;
Chapter Four

THE ROOM was pretty quiet, despite the constant moaning from the room beside them, and the excessive bed squeaking. The duo had settled on watching a Tom Hanks movie, The DaVinci Code, maybe? Sam's head was resting against the headboard while Isabelle was curled up beneath the covers. They weren't thick enough to keep the girl warm, but it was better than fighting against the broken air conditioner. Her eyes were beginning to fall closed when Sam switched the television off. "We need to talk," he huffed, running his hand over his face. "Before I go absolutely insane." The strawberry blonde rolled over, propping herself up on her elbow. "Okay? About what?" His head rolled to the side, his hazel eyes searching her face. There was so much he wanted to know. Did she look for him? Did she move on? But one question really stuck out in his swirling mind. "Why did you distance yourself when Jess and I started dating?"

His question shocked her. "Me? Sam, as I recall, you're the one who distanced yourself," she defensively explained, sitting up straighter. The comforter fell from her arms, sending a shock of cold running down her spine. "I.. I tried to be friends with you. After everything, I tried," he told her, sitting up from his slouched position. "Yeah, well, I tried too. I tried to ignore the fact that we liked each other. I tried to ignore the fact that you chose her over me—" Sam shook his head, running his fingers through her hair. "I did like you, Izzie. You got me, but.." He couldn't figure out a reason why he left her behind. She was right, in every way. He tried so hard to push her away, mainly because she was all he could think about. "Sam, I didn't just like you," she whispered, feeling hot tears roll down her cheeks. "I loved you, ya know?" He wanted to reach out and wipe away her tears. He really wanted to pull her close and squeeze away all of the pain. "Why did you pick her?" the strawberry blonde asked. She asked, but did she really want the answer?

He sighed gently, dropping his eyes to the burgundy blanket covering the girl in front of him. "I guess my feelings left..." — "Feelings don't walk away, Sam. People do. Even if you didn't love me back, you should have stayed." His head ducked in shame. "Jessica was my person; she was my best friend. When I got the phone call..." A sob bursted through her lips, her whole body shaking. Tears were streaking down her face, staining her shirt and the blanket around her. "I wanted you." Sam had never felt so guilty in his life. The memories of Jessica paralyzed against the ceiling, those flames engulfing her, clouded his mind like a nightmare. How was he supposed to tell the girl crying in front of him that her best friend's death was his fault? How was he supposed to tell her that he ran away from everything because he was scared. "You left.. You left like nothing even mattered. Why would you do that?" Her voice was breathy, and cracking.

"I— I didn't just leave, Iz. You gotta believe me when I say that I hesitated," he begged, sandwiching her face between his large hands. "I didn't want to leave you, but I didn't have a choice." She shoved him away, flinging the blanket from her body. "Didn't have a choice? Everyone has a choice!" she shouted, watching as the giant jumped off the bed after her. He towered over her, yet in his mind, she towered over him. "I didn't!" he shouted back, to which her hand flew across his face in a sharp slap. The room fell eerily silent as Isabelle's eyes widened in pure shock. Sam's head had turned with the blow, his own hand meeting his stinging cheek in shock. "I.." She took a deep breath, and took a step away from the younger Winchester. "I'm sorry," she whispered, grabbing Sam's jacket (she didn't have her own) and practically running out the motel door. "Izzie, wait!" Sam called, but it was too late. The door slammed behind her and Sam was too scared to follow after her.

It probably wasn't the best idea to leave the room like that. Especially since she was in such a dangerous place. Dean was off somewhere, so she was all alone. Until a flapping of wings sounded from behind her and her green eyes met a starry blue. "Hello, Isabelle," the angel spoke, starting the girl. "You must be Castiel. The guy that knocked me out." His deep set frown twitched, but only a little. His voice was deeper than any she had heard, yet again, she was mostly ever around her students. "I'm sorry about that," he told her, to which she nodded in return. The angel peered closer at the strawberry blonde, noticing the glistening tear trails, his eyebrows furrowed. "You've been crying," he simply stated. She rolled her eyes, but smiled at the celestial being standing beside her. "Yeah.. Just a little emotional, I guess." Isabelle shifted uncomfortably on her feet beneath Castiel's incessant stare. "What?" she snapped, Cas's eyebrows falling in confusion. "What?" he responded, earning an irritated groan.

                     "I'm not going to pour my heart out to you, angel of the Lord," she stated, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes scanned the building as she pulled on Sam's jacket. "I didn't ask you to?" She let out another groan, spotting a vending machine. "It's just..." She looked back at the angel, who had not taken his eyes off of her. "No, it's nothing. I'm getting a snack. Do you want a snack? Do angels eat? I'm sure Sam—" she took a deep breath to calm her rambling. Castiel mildly smiled, looking out over the parking lot. "I'll be right back." As Isabelle walked further into the dark part of the motel, a car pulled into the parking lot. Chuck exited the vehicle and moved toward Sam's hotel room. As Isabelle put in the loose change from Sam's coat, she didn't expect a hand to wrap in her hair and shove her face into the vending machine, knocking her out completely.

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IT WAS nighttime before Isabelle found herself waking up. Her head was throbbing as she stood. She noticed the tiny crack in the glass from where her head had collided with it. "What the..." Her voice trailed off as the familiar purr of the Impala approached the building. Stepping out of the shadows, not without grabbing a snack that she had already paid for, she waved down Dean. "What the hell happened to you?" he asked her, noticing the dried blood that had fallen from her forehead. "What happened to you?" she retorted, staring at the pink bandaid decorating his skin. Dean shook his head before bee lining toward Sam and Isabelle's room. It didn't take long for Isabelle to notice the Motel's sign had gone from TOREADER to RED. "Come on. We're getting out of here," Dean grunted, picking up Sam's things. "Isabelle stormed out earlier." — "Yeah, I know. She's outside. Come on." Sam ignored his brother, heading out the door. Once his eyes landed on the strawberry blonde, his worry slowly faded away. He crossed over to her with large strides, engulfing her into his arms.

She didn't push him off. She wrapped her arms around his waist, letting out a sigh of relief. Upon pulling away, his eyes finally caught sight of the small injury on her face. "What happened?" he asked her, to which she only shrugged. "Could have been an angry hooker for all I know," she responded with a smile. "Where are we going?" Sam finally asked his brother, who threw the duffle bag into the trunk of the car. Isabelle moved from Sam's arms, leaning against the hood of the car. "Anywhere, okay? Out of this motel, out of this town. I don't care if we got to swim, we are getting out. You, butt, off." Izzie quickly stood straight, huffing as Dean entered the motel once again, followed by Sam. "Dude, where are all the hex bags?" — "I burned them." Dean's eyes widened in disbelief. Was his brother suicidal? "You what?!" he asked, close to wringing Sam's neck with his own two hands. "Look, if Lilith is coming, which is a big "if" –" Isabelle walked in to this, her eyes widening at Sam's sentence. "No, no, no. It's more than an "if." Chuck is not a psychic. He's a prophet," Dean explained, running his fingers through his cropped, sandy brown hair.

                     "What?" Izzie and Sam both exclaimed, to which Dean groaned audibly. "Cas showed up, and apparently Chuck is writing the gospel of us." Sam barely flinched, yet Isabelle felt fear tighten in her chest. "Okay," Sam simply stated. "Okay?" Isabelle replied, turning sharply to stare at Sam. "Okay. Let's get the hell out of here." — "No." Isabelle shook her head at the younger boy, running both hands through her messy hair. "Lilith is gonna slaughter you." Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe she will, maybe she won't." Izzie scoffed, hugging herself tighter. "You're unbelievable, Sam Winchester," she spat, falling down onto the mattress. "You think you can take her?" She peered between the boys, already feeling hot tears prick at the backs of her eyes. "Only one way to find out, Dean, and I say bring her on." He knew this was dangerous. He knew that there was a bigger chance that he would die fighting her, but he wasn't exactly sure he wouldn't mind it. "Sam..." — "You think I'll do it, don't you? You think I'll go dark side."

                     "Yes! Okay? Yes. The way you've been acting lately? The things you've been doing?" Sam looks at his brother, completely startled. "Oh, I know. How you ripped Alastair apart like it was nothing, like you were swatting a fly. Cas told me, okay?" Sam's whole demeanor changed. He became nervous, staring at the floor. "What else did he tell you?" he inquired softly, ashamed of himself and his actions. "Nothing I don't already know. That you've been using your psychic crap, and you've been getting stronger. We just don't know why, and we don't know how," the shorter brother explained, exasperated. "It's not what you think." Dean shook his head in disbelief. He picked up his bag, his words coming out mumbled, "Then what is it, Sam? 'Cause I'm at a total loss." Sam's gaze fell, his hands shoved into his jeans pocket. "Are you coming or not?" Dean had moved toward the door, staring at his brother. "No." His words could have killed Dean. Knowing there was nothing he could do... He left without another word, waiting for the strawberry blonde outside.

Her eyes were glued to the floor. "Are you sure about this?" she questioned, her voice soft. Sam sat beside her on the bed, taking her hand and lacing their fingers. "Honestly?" The two connected stares, Izzie's head bobbing in a nod. "No." She could feel that familiar lump swell in her throat, and those unshed tears bouncing against the dams built behind her eyes. "I'll stay with you. She won't expect that—" Sam shook his head, squeezing her fingers. "No.. I can't— You need to go home, alright? Go back to your family, your job. Go find someone and get married. Start a family.." Izzie laughed, resting her forehead against the younger Winchester's shoulder. "If you die, Sam Winchester, I'll kill you." His lips pressed ever so sweetly against her hair, tears slipping down his cheeks. "I'm glad I saw you again, Iz," he whispered, pulling away from the woman. "Get outta here." She stood from the bed, her fingers trembling against his. She bent forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Until we meet again." — "Hopefully under better circumstances."

                     Outside stood Dean and Castiel, tears glossy in the older Winchester's eyes. "Drag Sam out of here, now. Before Lilith shows up." Castiel's blue eyes fell on the strawberry blonde, who strolled toward them with slow steps. "It's a prophecy. I can't interfere," he spoke sternly, his deep voice taking a stab at her heart. "You have tested me and thrown me every which way. And I have never asked for anything. Not a damn thing. But now I'm asking. I need your help. Please." Dean was beginning to wear thin. Isabelle stepped closer, placing a gentle touch to his shoulder. "Please, Castiel. We all know Sam doesn't deserve this," she whispered. "What you're asking, it's... not within my power to do." The angel's head fell, a sigh slipping past his lips. Was he guilty? Izzie didn't know. "Why? 'Cause it's "divine prophecy"?" — "Yes." Isabelle felt her heart begin to crackle within her ribcage, threatening to burst. "So, what – We're just supposed to sit around and, and wait for it to happen?" Dean's hand found hers, pleading for a comforting touch. His fingers squeezed hers, unshed tears blurring his vision. "I'm sorry."

The strawberry blonde held Dean's hand, a million thoughts running through her head. Years ago, she had though Sam would be the one she started a family with. She never expected her life to end up like this. "Screw you. You and your mission. Your God. If you don't help me now, then when the time comes and you need me... don't bother knocking." Dean began to move, practically dragging the small girl behind him. Their fingers were locked tight together. "Dean," she spoke softly, only for her voice to be drowned out by Castiel's. His deep, strong voice called out to the older Winchester. "What!?" he snapped, finally releasing Isabelle's hand. She hugged herself tightly, her legs aching to relieve themselves of her weight. The whole situation was taking a massive toll of her. "You must understand why I can't intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected," Castiel explained. Dean rolled his eyes, "I get that." — "If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon." Dean stared at the angel, lost in thought. "And these archangels, they're tied to prophets?" Castiel nodded, with a verbal confirmation. A light bulb went off quickly in Isabelle's head. She lurched for Dean, slapping him on the shoulder excitedly.

"Dean!" she gasped, locking eyes with the hunter. Looking into his eyes, she realized he had caught on. "So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon –" — "Then the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon. Just so you understand... why I can't help." Dean turned back to Isabelle with a look of determination, locking his arms around her waist in a tight hug. "You're a genius," he muttered in her hair, even though the strawberry blonde couldn't take the credit. "You thought of it, too," she chuckled as he set her down. "Thanks, Cas."

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CHUCK'S EYES were locked on Isabelle standing in front of him. She had tied her hair up into a ponytail, ditching her shoes. "Chuck, you'll be fine. You're protected," she explained for the millionth time, her hands placed on her hips. Fear rattled the prophet, his fingers trembling as he reached for the handle. "We'll be right behind you," she assured him, to which Dean whirled around in his place. "Woah, woah, woah, woah. No. You're staying outside," he pointed at the ex-Lit teacher. Her jaw dropped in shock. "I can handle myself, Dean. Besides, we aren't fighting. An archangel is." She moved around him, watching as Chuck burst open. Dean and Isabelle followed inside after him, both holding weapons. "I am the prophet Chuck!" he squeaked, Isabelle visibly cringing. "You've got to be joking," she groaned, slipping off of Sam's body. Isabelle pointed her gun toward the demon, jealousy bubbling inside her. As Lilith approached Chuck, she couldn't stop herself from stepping forward in defense of the writer. "This is no joke," she spit. Lilith's eyes landed on the strawberry blonde, cracking a perfectly, white smile.

"You see, Chuck here's got an archangel on his shoulder. You've got about 10 seconds before this room is full of wrath and you're a piece of charcoal. You sure you want to tangle with that?" Dean explained in a taunting tone. He, too, stepped closer to her, eyes narrowed in a challenging way. The demon glared at him before turning to look at Sam. If Izzie didn't have any more self control, she would have shot the monster then and there. It didn't take long for her to drop the gun when the vessel began to scream and Lilith poured through her mouth in a stream of black smoke. Sam jumped off the bed, pulling the distraught strawberry blonde into his arms. "I thought I told you to get out of here," he whispered in her hair, holding her tight. She smiled, running her fingers against his back. "You should know that you can't get rid of me that easy," she huffed, squeezing her eyes closed. Chuck cleared his throat, watching the two part. "No thanks?" he asked with a lopsided, nervous grin. Isabelle smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You did good, Chuck," she told him. His cheeks turned a bright shade of red as Isabelle walked away, pulling Dean along with her.

"I can't go home," she told him after building up the courage. The hunter nodded slowly, his hands on his hips. "Are you sure? This life... Are you sure he's worth it?" His words struck the woman down, her green eyes bright. "I'd do anything for him," she whispered, watching Dean's hard eyes soften. "It's not going to be easy. People will die, Iz." She nodded at his words, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You probably won't see your family ever again." — "I know that.." Tears threatened to spill as she held her body together. "If leaving allows them to be safe, and for him to be safe... I'm all in." Dean nodded with a small grin. "Welcome to the family," he spoke gently, pulling her into a small hug. "We'll keep you safe—" She laughed a bit, shaking her head. "I might be the one keeping you idiots safe."

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Word Count; 3081