⌜ chapter thirteen ⌟

The boys walk into the motel room that the three have been sharing in Chicago — a product of the nightmares that Isla's been having — and they see the blonde curled up on the couch on the other side of the room. She has a book in her hands and Minx curled up on her chest.

"Find anything interesting?" Isla asks as she places her bookmark between two pages; they happened to walk in just as she finished a chapter.

"Besides the way my brain shuts off when Dean starts talking about the women he picks up while getting information on a case?" Sam sighs as he shrugs out of the over-shirt for his fake uniform for his security outfit.

Her eyebrows furrow as she grinds her teeth. "Anything useful?"

"Believe me, that is useful." He tells her. "He found a symbol on the floor of the girl's apartment — looked kinda like a Z with a circle in the center. Sound familiar?"

"Should it?"

"We didn't recognize it." He says. "We're about to head down to the bar that the victim worked at, get some information about her. You wanna come?"

"I thought I told you I refused to work any jobs that you came across." The blonde says as Minx gets up and stretches. "Last two times, I got the shit kicked out of me. And I don't think I'd even fully healed from that dickhead shifter."

"I just meant that you could get something to eat. You know, get out of the motel for a couple hours."

"I guess I do look decently presentable for the public now." She says as she sits up. Minx has already run over to Dean, who let her go into the bathroom with him while he changes.

"How do you feel?" Sam asks as he walks over and sits beside her on the couch.

"Better." She nods. "Hey, have I apologized yet?"

"What the hell do you have to apologize for?" He questions as his older brother walks back out of the bathroom.

"I said some pretty shitty things when we were getting ready to leave that bar in Minnesota, and I didn't mean any of it. Well, no, some of it was true." She pauses, trying to remember everything that she said, and he chuckles. "I don't have anyone else, but I don't want to leave either. And what I said about you and your dad was harsh. I mean, I am pissed at him, but the way that I—"

"I get it." Sam cuts her off. "Isla, you got kidnapped trying to save me from two guys twice your size. I think I can puzzle together that you were just being bitchy because you were in a bad mood." He says, and she chuckles.

"Part of me wants to be annoyed that you just called me a bitch, but the other part knows I deserve way worse after what I said."

"Forget about it." He shakes his head. "Fighting with each other and kicking ass for each other is what family is, right?"

"Aw, you think I'm family?" She smiles, her tone slightly teasing.

"Mhm, the little sister I never wanted."

"I'm older than you, Sasquatch." The blonde says as she stands up, and he smirks as he rises to his feet as well.

"Still the little sister." He says as he looks down at her, and her hazel eyes narrow as she steps up onto the couch. Sam laughs as he shakes his head. "Sit down before you hurt yourself."

"Yeah, that's probably smart." She agrees as she lowers herself onto the cushions, and he walks over to his stuff so that he can get his clothes to change in the bathroom.

Dean looks over at Isla as she picks up her book again and starts reading the next chapter. They haven't said much of anything to each other since they got back to the motel the night that he got them from that wacked-out family's house. He wants to talk to her, he wants things to go back to how they were before they slept together — before things got weird and he started having a hard time being in the same room as her.

"Are you not coming with us?" Dean asks, and Isla's eyebrows furrow as she looks over at him.

"I was planning on it... Why?"

He motions toward her, and she looks down at herself to figure out what he's referring to. She's wearing Sam's red Stanford sweatshirt, faded blue-jeans, and black Vans. Her hair's down and was combed out after waking up this morning — she's ready to go whenever they are. Her hazel eyes dart around the room, thinking maybe he was referring to the kitten, but Minx is on his bed.

"The book." He finally says. "You're starting a new chapter?"

"Oh." The blonde looks at the book in her hand. "It's Patterson — his chapters are, like, two pages long." She tells him, and he just nods.

"You ready to go?" Sam asks as he walks back out, and Isla puts her bookmark back. She'd only gotten a couple paragraphs in before Dean's question, so it doesn't really matter either way.

They go to the bar that the most recent victim worked at, and Dean wastes no time at all in going up to the counter. He starts talking to the bartender — a really pretty brunette woman with dark eyes — who's quite obviously flirting with him. Sam leaves Isla for awhile, going to do some research at the library while she has dinner, and the blonde has to refrain from looking at Dean.

The younger boy gets back later, and he sits down next to Isla. "How's it going?" He asks.

"Fantastic." She mutters, not knowing that Dean's walking up behind her. "I forgot how great it was to sit alone at bars while your brother finds someone to hit on."

"Sitting alone is your choice, sweetheart." The oldest says, and Sam sees her jaw tighten. "I talked to the bartender." He tells his brother.

"You get anything?" Sam asks.

"Besides her number." Isla adds as she turns on her stool and gets up before walking away from the table.

"What's going on with you guys?" He asks as he looks back at his older brother.

Dean shrugs as he sits where she had been. "I don't know what her deal is. Maybe it's that time of the month or somethin'."

"Dean."

"What?" He questions, and Sam shakes his head.

Half an hour later, the brothers walk out to the parking lot and see Isla laying on the hood of the car. Her eyes are on the night sky — what little stars she can see in the city — and she can hear them arguing about something. Dean makes a comment about a girl not even being that into him, and she takes a deep breath as she closes her eyes.

Dean walks over and he stops a couple feet away from the front of the Impala. "Sam thinks he might've found a lead. He's following it while I do more research back at the motel." He tells her, and she pauses for a moment before sitting up and sliding off the passenger side of the car. "So, that's it? You're just not gonna talk to me anymore?"

"Was I supposed to give a verbal response to that?" She asks as she turns to look at him. "I thought I'd already made it perfectly clear that I didn't want to be a part of the case."

"And that's why you asked Sam about it earlier."

"I asked, and I got more information than I bargained for. It's called learning from my mistakes."

Dean hesitates for a moment and then scoffs as he starts for the driver's side door. "Gotcha."

"However you interpreted that is on you. I was talking about this afternoon." She tells him. "I don't need to hear about your latest conquests. And, you know what, I don't need to explain myself to you either." She shakes her head as she looks away from him.

"Yeah, 'cause that would require you actually giving a shit."

"Are you— Are you shitting me right now?" She snaps, and he looks back at her, still obviously annoyed. "I spent two days waking up in some creep's bed, getting groped by the sick bastard — and it was hell trying to get free. When I finally did, I could've just climbed out the window and gotten the hell out of there, and believe me, I wanted to. But I heard them torturing you, so instead, I went out there with a bat and a piece of rope to fight three men twice my size and that little bitch with the knife. But, yeah, no, you're absolutely right. I don't give a shit about you. It was just fun for me — having them attack me and getting shot at. You know what, screw you."

"You already did that, sweetheart!" He calls after her as she turns around and walks away from him, leaving him standing alone in the parking lot.

—

"Will you stop being a child?" Sam says as he pulls on Isla's foot.

"I'm busy." The blonde mumbles, holding her book above her head.

"Are either of you ever gonna tell me what's going on?" He questions, barely getting the response of go ask your brother.

Sam got back to the motel early this morning to discover that Isla had gotten her own room, and took everything of hers — including Minx — out of the boys' room. She's spent the entire day reading her book and ignoring her phone.

"Alright, up we go." He grabs her arms and pulls her to her feet before wrapping his arms around her waist. He then throws her over his shoulder and leaves her room, being mindful of where the kitten is so that he doesn't accidentally let her out.

Isla's laughing as he kicks the door to his and his brothers' room shut behind him. "Man, these kids are funny." She says as she turns the page in the book that she's still reading.

Sam then sets her down on his bed, and she scoots back, not breaking her concentration with the book in her hand. "Stay here." He tells her as he turns for the door.

"Woof." The blonde mutters, and he shakes his head.

Sam gets back a little while later, and Dean's leaving a voicemail for their dad. "We think we got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom. So, uh... This warehouse — it's 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can." He says before hanging up.

"Voicemail?" Sam asks as he sets a duffle bag on his brother's bed.

"Yeah."

"Like he'd ever answer the phone." Isla mumbles. "I know this is kind of a personal thing for you guys, but do you want help with this?"

"No." Sam shakes his head. "You're not fully healed from the last one. We can handle it."

"You know, I'm starting to doubt that I'll ever fully heal, but I'm not an invalid." She argues. "I'm perfectly capable of helping."

"I don't want you there." He says, and her eyebrows furrow.

"Sam—"

"Will you just..." He sighs as he turns to face her. "It killed our mom, and Jess... Last thing we need is it killing another of the women in our lives." He says, and her expression softens.

"I appreciate the concern, but the situations are different here in a few respects." She says, and he shakes his head.

"Please, stay here. Read your book, keep Minx from destroying more of your stuff."

The blonde sighs as she looks up at him. "You're lucky I find your concern endearing and not condescending..." She says. "Fine, I'll stay here. Maybe find some bubble wrap."

He laughs as he shakes his head. "That's not what I mean." He says, and she nods. "Thank you."

"Mhm."

"What'd you get?" Dean asks, looking at the duffle bag full of weapons that his brother left on his bed.

"I ransacked the trunk." Sam tells him, returning his attention to the matter at hand. "Holy water, every weapon that I could think of. Exorcism rituals from about a half-dozen religions. I'm not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything, huh?"

He nods, and Isla lays back on Sam's bed as she watches them start going through the multitude of weapons. They're loading the guns and making sure they're good on ammo, fidgeting with other things that she can't see with Sam's back to her.

"Big night." Dean says as he glances at his brother.

"Yeah. You nervous?"

"No. No." He shakes his head. "Are you?"

"No. No way." He says, and they continue tinkering with their guns. "God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing — the demon?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, alright?"

"I know. I'm just saying...what if we did?" Sam asks. "What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I'd sleep for a month, go back to school, just...be a person again."

"You want to go back to school?" His brother asks as he looks over at him.

"Yeah, once we're done hunting the thing."

"Huh."

"Why? Is there something wrong with that?" He questions, surprised by his brother's response.

"No, no." Dean shakes his head. "It's, uh, great. Good for you."

"I mean, what are you gonna do when it's all over?"

"It's never gonna be over." He tells him. "There's gonna be others. There's always gonna be something to hunt."

"But there's gotta be something that you want for yourself."

"Yeah, I don't want you to leave the second this thing's over, Sam." He says as he turns his back to his younger brother. "

"Dude, what's your problem?" He questions, and Dean sighs as he rests his hands on the tall dresser in the room, dropping his head.

"Why do you think I drag you everywhere, huh?" He asks as he looks back at him, and Isla lifts her gaze to the ceiling, feeling like she's intruding on a personal family conversation. "I mean, why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place?"

"'Cause Dad was in trouble." Sam says. "'Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom."

"Yes, that, but it's more than that, man." He says as he turns away from him again, sounding like he's getting irritated. "You, me, and Dad...Isla — I mean, I want us to... I want to be together again. I want us to be a family again."

"Dean, we are a family." He tells him. "I'd do anything for you guys...but things will never be the way they were before."

"They could be."

Sam hesitates for a moment before speaking again. "I don't want them to be." He tells him. "I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me go my own way." He tells him, and his brother's jaw tightens as he looks at him.

The boys continue going through their weapons, and Sam eventually sits down on the foot of his bed. Dean's at the table, and his younger brother lays beside the blonde — both of them used to it by now, since they were sharing a bed while she was sleeping in their room.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Isla asks, her voice gaining Dean's attention.

"I know that tonight doesn't hold nearly as much weight for you, but... I mean, this isn't gonna be your life forever, is it?" He asks as he turns his head to look at her.

"What else am I gonna do?" She shakes her head. "I'm twenty-five, and I've never had a normal job — doesn't exactly look good for a resumé. And school was..." She scoffs.

"But don't you ever want to settle down, start a family?"

"Sam, I left my family. I don't really think starting a new one is the best idea. Family has never really been my forte." She tells him. "Actually, I'm starting to think that it might be best if I just avoid people in general. Save us all the catastrophic events."

Dean grinds his teeth as he looks down at his hands. He wants to know what the hell happened that morning, what changed between then and the night before. Because when he's being honest with himself — he doesn't want things to go back to how they were before. He wants to go back to how they were that night: joking and flirting in the bar, kissing and holding hands in the tattoo shop.

His green eyes land on the tattoo on the side of his right wrist, and he brings his other hand over to lightly run his thumb over the cursive I and the crown that's resting on top of it. He wants to go back to that night, to when he was able to hold her in his arms and leave kisses on her cheek and on her lips.

He doesn't want to be her friend again. He wants her.