⌜ chapter four ⌟

Dean parks the Impala outside of a café before pulling his phone out of his front pocket to see if he has any messages that he might've missed. Not even one. He then starts scrolling through his contacts — passing Bren, Caleb, Carmelita, Cassie, Christian, Curtis, Dad, Donny, Isla, Pastor Jim, and Robin — to get to Sam, but then decides against calling his brother.

Isla takes a deep breath as she stirs awake, her jaw tightening as her eyes dart around her surroundings. Hazel lands on the green eyes looking back at her, and she settles, taking deep breaths as she relaxes back into her seat.

"You alright?" Dean asks, confused. She didn't seem like she was having a nightmare — there were none of the same telltale signs that Sam usually has  — but she looked startled awake.

"Mhm." She looks around outside as her hand moves to her sweater pocket, causing her to immediately start panicking again when she comes up empty. "Where's—"

"I got her." He says, and the blonde looks back at him. Dean pulls his utility jacket and green flannel away from himself to show her the kitten that's curled up on his left leg, sleeping against his dark t-shirt. "She started crying about an hour ago, had pulled herself out of your sweater. I think she got a little too warm in there."

"What about your allergies?" She asks groggily as she sits up.

"I know how to use a washer." He says, attitude laced in his tone.

"Simmer down, hot head. Not everything I say is a personal attack against your IQ. In fact, I don't believe I've ever insinuated that I thought you were stupid." She says as she tries to stretch her back. "My cousin's allergic to cats — she breaks out in hives whenever she touches 'em. Believe it or not, I was actually trying to be considerate toward you."

He pauses a second as he glances at her, thinking maybe he should stop getting so defensive. "I don't have a reaction like that. My nose stuffs up or gets runny, and I sneeze a lot."

"I haven't heard you sneezing."

"I stopped at a pharmacy back in Rockford while Sam was talking to Sanford Ellicott's son, and I picked up some allergy pills. They seem to be working." He explains, and she nods.

Dean then goes around asking the locals about the last couple that went missing, while Isla takes the kitten to find somewhere that she can get her fed and taken care of. Soon they're all back in the car, and Isla's legs are stretched out on the seat with the kitten in her lap. The little, black fluffball's meowing as she crawls across Isla's thigh toward Dean.

"You traitorous little minx." The blonde protests, and Dean chuckles as he looks over at the kitten that seems determined to get to him.

"Her eyes aren't even open. How does she know where I am?" He asks as he reaches over with his right hand to pick her up.

"Kittens rely pretty heavily on their sense of smell." Isla explains as he places the kitten between his t-shirt and his flannel. "Their ears don't start unfolding until they're about a week old, and they're eyes open around ten days. Before that, they can't see or hear anything, so their sense of smell is how they navigate the world around them."

"She can smell me?" He raises his eyebrows as he glances at her. "You sayin' I stink?" He asks, and the blonde smirks.

"She's been in your shirt twice now — she knows your scent." She tells him. "And both times she's been with you, you were holding her after she'd been in distress. She probably associates your scent with comfort."

"You know a lot about kittens."

"Spent a bit of time around them when I was younger." She shrugs. "We found strays every now and then, so we'd bring them home and nurse them back to health. Once they were older — on hard food and using a litter box — we'd find them a home."

"You never kept 'em?" He asks, and she nods.

"Sometimes. Can't keep them all though."

A buzzing sound catches their attention, and Dean glances behind the two of them into the backseat. "What the hell?" He mutters as Isla gets onto her knees to lean over the bench.

"Is that your E.M.F.?" She asks as she moves the kitten's bag so that she can more easily get to Dean's duffle, where the noise seems to be coming from. "You're a boxer man. Funny — you're so wound up, I would've thought you wore tighty-whities."

"Leave my underwear alone." He glares at her after pulling onto the side of the road.

"Why the hell is the E.M.F. meter with your clothes?" She questions as she sits properly in her seat, the device now in hand. "What the hell?" Most of the bars on the top are lit, and the last two keep flashing red. The meter's definitely picking up on some kind of electromagnetic energy in the area.

"There aren't any power lines out here." Dean says as they both look around outside the car.

"No. But there is a creepy-ass looking orchard."

"Alright, let's go." He picks up the kitten and places her in the front chest pocket of his utility jacket before climbing out of the car.

Shutting the door, he peeks into his pocket and sees her adjusting herself. She's small, and it's a big pocket, so she's able to get comfortable easily enough. He tucks the top flap into the pocket, creating an opening for airflow so that she won't have a hard time breathing.

"Well, it was nice while it lasted." Isla says as the two hunters start into the orchard.

"What's that?"

"Having a cat."

"I'm not trying to take her from you. I thought I was helping." He glances at the blonde over his shoulder, but she's not looking at him. "You're always with her, and you hardly sleep..."

"I didn't mean you, ace." She says, watching her steps as they walk through the somewhat foggy area, leaves crunching under foot. "Sometimes animals choose their owners themselves despite the humans intentions, and you've been claimed... Guess it's a good thing I no longer have a car, and you're stuck with us. I think you'd break her heart."

"That's nice." He shoots her a dirty look.

"I don't remember you being so defensive."

"I don't remember you being so outspoken."

Isla suddenly stops walking as she looks ahead. "That has got to be the creepiest thing that I have ever seen...in person." She mutters, and he turns to look for what caught her attention.

His eyes land on the scarecrow a few feet away from them, and they walk over to get a better look at it. "Dude, you fugly." He says as they take in its appearance. Brown hat, matted black hair, dark-colored overcoat, stitched face with black, hollowed eyes.

"Why's it got a hook?" The blonde questions as she turns to get one of the many ladders in the orchard, and sets in front of it the scarecrow. "I swear to God, if this thing sprouts wings..."

"Wings?"

"Haven't you ever seen Jeepers Creepers?" She asks as she starts up the ladder.

"Oh, yeah." He nods. "What are you doing?"

"Lemme see the flier of the guy?" She twists her torso and looks down at him as he pulls the two flyers out of his back pocket. He hands it to her, and she unfolds it so that she can see the picture of the man who went missing last April. "Jeepers here has a matching tat with our last vic."

Dean rounds the ladder and looks up at the scarecrow where she's pulled the torn sleeve away from its arm. "The hell are we dealin' with here?" He questions.

"I don't know, but I suddenly feel like I'm standing too close to our new friend." Isla turns on the ladder and then jumps off, landing on the fallen leaves below.

"Hey, I thought animals were supposed to be a good judge of character." Dean says as they start back in the direction of the Impala.

"What do you mean?" She asks, watching her step as she walks just ahead of him.

"Well, the little one curled up in my pocket here shouldn't like me so much if I were a self-absorbed, narrow-minded asshole."

"I admit, that was a little harsh."

"So, you don't think I'm selfish?"

"I didn't call you selfish, I called you self-absorbed — there's a difference."

"Which is?" He questions, and she turns to look at him.

"Well, princess, you spent more time getting ready to leave yesterday than I did. You took extra long in the mirror." She teases, a playful smirk on her face as she looks up at him. "Very interested in your looks, probably because you hit on everything with boobs."

His green eyes narrow. "I don't hit on you."

"Thank God." She smiles when he looks unamused. "Despite that, you risk your life on a daily basis in order to save others — that's the exact opposite of selfish."

"And the narrow-minded comment?"

"Your mind has exactly two tracks — kill monsters, find women to hook up with."

"That's not true." He argues.

"It's mostly true." The blonde says as she turns around and starts walking again.

"What about calling me an asshole?"

"That, I stand by." She glances over her shoulder at him, and he shakes his head.

—

Dean looks down at Isla; the blonde's sound asleep on her own queen-size bed with the kitten curled up on her pillow, nuzzled into the crook of her neck. He's glad that he dropped her off to get a room yesterday, and kept working the case without her. Now, none of the townspeople saw the two of them together, or know that she's even here with him. After the way the café owner was treating him, and how the sheriff drove him out of town yesterday, he's sure that it's a good thing they're none the wiser about her presence in this creepy little town.

He thinks that what he's dealing with is some kind of pagan God, and these couples were all sacrificed to it. He still feels guilty about the way things went four years ago, and the last thing that he needs to do now is make her a target for a ritual sacrifice.

Later that night, Isla's pacing the room with her phone to her ear, getting more and more worried. She woke up to a note from Dean saying that he was following a lead, and he'd call in later to let her know what was going on. Not only has he not called her, but his phone is going straight to voicemail.

The kitten's meowing in her carrier as Isla walks over to Dean's bed and lifts up the pillow, knowing that he keeps a knife there. "And this is why I usually keep my weapons bag with me. I need more than a damn knife." She grumbles.

The blonde then walks over to check the temperature of the water bag she microwaved, making sure that it's not too hot before she puts it in the carrier with the kitten. It's usually used for when women have cramps, but this should be good for the kitten as well. And since it's at a good heat temp, she wraps it in one of Dean's t-shirts and positions it with the kitten inside the crate.

"I know, honey. I'm gonna go find him for you." She says as she pets the little, black kitten. "We'll be back soon, don't you worry."

She has some time since she just fed her, though she really doesn't like the idea of leaving her like this. But she gets the feeling that it's not the best idea to take her right now. So, she just has to hope that it won't be a long trip.

Isla makes it to the orchard and she heads in, though she really wishes she had a better idea. It's after dark, and hard to see as she walks between the apple trees. She hears a faint female voice, but has no idea what was actually said. She heads in the direction that it came from as she twists the knife in her hand, and simply hopes for the best.

Then she sees a familiar dark jacket near the base of one of the trees. "Dean?" She quickly moves toward him, and he sighs in relief when he sees her.

"Oh, thank God." The green-eyed hunter looks up at the blonde as she makes her way over to where he's tied up. "You're like an angel sent from heaven. Get me outta here."

"The hell happened?" She asks as she starts cutting the ropes keeping him tied to the tree.

"I'll explain later. How'd you get here?"

"I stole a car." She tells him, and he chuckles. "Oh, and your knife. You can have that back later."

"That's my girl. Glad to hear you learned well." He smiles as he looks up at her. "Keep an eye on that scarecrow." He says as she finishes with his other hand.

"Scarecrow's gone, Dean." Isla says as she then quickly goes to cut the ropes that are keeping the girl across from him tied to another tree.

"Alright. Hurry up, we gotta go." Dean says as he looks over at the empty post.

Isla helps the younger blonde to her feet, and the girls follow after Dean so that the three of them can get out of the orchard without running into the scarecrow that wants to take two more victims. Just like it has for years now.

"I talked to Sam earlier. He said that you told him about some sacred tree?" Isla says as they jog through the orchard.

"Yeah, the tree's the source of its power."

"So let's burn the damn thing down."

"No, in the morning. Let's just shag ass before Jeepers catches up." He tells her, and she nods.

They hear a rifle cock as a light suddenly shines on their faces, and Dean quickly reaches over and grabs Isla to pull her away from the two people looking at them. He nudges the younger of the two girls behind them as he pulls Isla into his side, angling his body so that he's between her and the rifleman. He then takes the knife from her hand as the three of them look around, only to find that they're completely surrounded by townspeople with guns.

"The kitten misses you." Isla's voice is low as she clutches onto Dean's jacket. "I just thought you should know that in case we die right now."

"Please, let us go." The younger girl says as she looks at the first two that they saw — an older couple that's intent on keeping them there.

"It'll be over quickly. I promise." The man with the rifle tells her.

"Please."

"Emily, you have to let him take you. You have to—" He grunts as a sharp object is suddenly thrust through the left side of his chest.

The woman beside him starts screaming in horror as she stares at the object that's now protruding from her husband, and Emily screams before burying her face in the back of Isla's shoulder. The man's gasping, and then the scarecrow pulls the hook out of him. He falls to the ground, and Jeepers grabs the woman as she continues screaming. All of the other townspeople quickly scatter as he drags the two of them off.

"Holy sh—"

"Let's go." Dean cuts Isla off, grabbing her hand to pull her with him. She reaches for Emily, and the three of them quickly run out of the orchard.

As soon as they get back to the motel, Dean walks over to the kitten's carrier to get her to settle down, and Isla gets some clothes for Emily to change into after her shower. He lays down on his bed and lets the kitten get comfortable wherever she wants to lay while the girls walk over to the kitchen area.

Isla gets the younger girl some water and then chuckles as she looks over at Dean. "Would you believe me if I told you that he's actually allergic to cats?" She asks, her voice low.

"Really?" Emily asks as she looks over at Dean as well, and she nods.

His head's on his pillow, and he's looking at the kitten that's laying on his chest. One hand is over her back, providing warmth, while the other is resting in front of her so she can use it as a pillow. She's still doing little meows, not entirely calm after having been left alone for so long.

"Mm." Isla hums. "But the little one there has placed her claim on him, and I really don't think he minds."

"Your boyfriend's sweet." She says, and Isla snorts.

"Uh, no." She shakes her head. "The one and old girl that I've ever seen capture and keep his attention is currently laying on him."

"Oh, sorry... I guess that does explain the two beds."

"It's fine." The older girl says. "Anyway, you can help yourself to anything in the bathroom, and there should be an unused towel in there as well."

"Thanks."

"Hey, come here." Dean looks over at Isla as Emily disappears into the bathroom. "Her eyes are starting to open."

"Well, it's about time." The blonde says as she walks over and lays beside him, looking up at the meowing kitten. "Someone's a little late in the game, huh?" She reaches up and lightly pets the top of her head with her thumb.

"So, uh... Should I get a lifetime supply of allergy pills?"

"Hm?" Her eyebrows furrow as she glances at him.

"Well, you said sometimes you kept the kittens, and sometimes you found them a home. Which is it gonna be here?" He asks. "Or should I take the fact that she's still nameless as a sign?"

"Oh, she has a name."

"She does?"

"Yeah. I mean, look at her." She motions to the way the kitten's completely eating up his attention. "She's a little Minx." The blonde says as she looks up at him, and he laughs. "Oh, damn."

"Hm?" Dean looks at her as she turns onto her stomach and looks at his left eye.

"They really jacked up your face." She says as she reaches up and applies light pressure on his cheekbone just under the large bruise. He winces. "What'd they do to you?"

"The sheriff hit me with the butt of his rifle."

"And here I thought if anyone was gonna hit you anytime soon, it'd be me." She shakes her head, and he fake laughs as she gets up from the bed and walks over to the kitchen area.

"What are you doing?" He asks as she makes her way back over to him a minute later with an ice cube wrapped in a paper towel, her fingers curled around where the towel is twisted.

"What's it look like?" She sits beside him again and carefully places the ice cube just under his eye, holding it there herself since he's still supporting the kitten.

"Most people would've made an ice pack." Dean says, his green eyes still on her.

"Considered it." She nods. "But I didn't think you'd want all that freezing ice laying right over your eye."

"Yeah, I guess not." He agrees, and it's then that she sees the way he's looking at her.

"What?" The blonde asks, suddenly feeling very self-conscious under his stare.

"You're nicer than I remember."

"Are you saying I was mean before?"

"No." His head moves slightly side-to-side. "Just less likely to go out of your way to do something like this."

"The thought still would've occurred to me back then, I just... I was so afraid of being annoying and of getting on people's nerves that it was easier to sit there and do nothing." She tells him, her eyebrows furrow as she looks away from him. "But now I know you think I'm annoying, and I simply don't care anymore." She tries to make light of something that's clearly bothered her for years. He lets it go, seeing that it's obviously not something she wants to talk about, and she adjusts the position of the ice cube to cover a different area of bruised skin.