⌜ chapter two ⌟

Swirls of red wash down the shower drain, and Isla takes a deep breath as she closes her eyes and lets the warm water envelope her body. Hunting certainly isn't a glamorous job, and the pay is crap, but she likes her routine after the job is done. It's calming — the silence that follows while she's alone in her motel room.

Finishing up her shower, she gets dressed and then makes her way back into the main area of the room where she left her brush. A small meow — high in pitch, but faint in volume — catches her attention, and she looks over at the cat carrier where she left her kitten on the floor at the foot of her bed.

"Hey, sweetheart." She walks over and kneels down next to the carrier so that she can see inside at the tiny, black kitten. "Are you cold? I know you're not hungry again just yet."

After adjusting the kitten with its blanket and cuddle toy that she has in there, Isla goes back into the bathroom to blow-dry her short, blonde hair. It's a quick process, and then she's back in the main room to relax for about an hour before she has to feed the kitten again.

And then she's up every two hours. Like clockwork.

The next day, Isla drives down to the beach — a benefit of working a job in California. She's not going out to the water, or even getting out of her truck. She just wanted to see the ocean for a few minutes, listen to the waves crash as they reach the shoreline...reflect back on all of the trips that she used to take with her family to this very beach.

The kitten's curled up in her lap, sleeping under her shirt so that it's pressed against her skin for warmth. Isla's window's rolled down, letting in the cool breeze that's rolling off the water, and she closes her eyes as she takes a deep breath. She's missed this — the sunny environment, the familiar scent of the ocean air. It's been years since she's even been able to drive out here.

She can hear families all around her in the parking lot as they unload their cars, children excited to get out to the water. The ghost of a smile pulls at the corners of her lips as she hears a mom call after her kids, reminding them to put on sunblock. Birds fly by overhead, squawking as they pass.

She never realized before how much this place feels like home.

The sound of her phone ringing breaks the serenity, and she sighs as she picks up the cell phone from the seat beside her. She doesn't have to look at the caller ID to know who's calling, he's the only one who ever calls. "And what can I do for you today?" Isla asks as she uses the crank on her door to roll up her window.

"I have a job for you." A familiar, gruff voice comes through the line.

"I'm otherwise preoccupied at the moment — taking a leave of absence from the job." She tells him, not that this is new information to him.

"It's important." John tells her. "Kids could get themselves killed."

The blonde sighs as she twists the key in the ignition. "Where is it?"

"Rockford, Illinois."

"It's gonna take me three days just to get to Illinois from here with all the stops I'm gonna have to make. I bet your son can do it." She says as she holds the phone between her shoulder and her ear, reluctantly backing out of her spot. Driving one-handed becomes a lot easier when she no longer has to shift gears.

"He's finishing up another case." He tells her. "You know I wouldn't be calling if I had another choice."

"Well, fill me in then." The blonde feels the kitten moving around, but it settles soon after and falls back to sleep.

"There's a place there called the Roosevelt Asylum — it closed down years ago, but there are legends that it's haunted. There have been multiple unconfirmed sightings and two deaths, and it all seemed to be surrounding the south wing, but it was chained up for a long time."

"Let me guess — not anymore."

"Doesn't seem that way, no." He shakes his head. "There was a cop named Walter Kelly — he and his partner responded to a call inside the asylum. After his shift ended that night, he went home and shot his wife, then he turned the gun on himself."

"And you think that their deaths are three and four?" She questions.

"I know how to do my job, Isla." He says, his tone hard, and she nods as she rolls her hazel eyes.

"Alright, alright. I'm going."

"Be careful."

"Mhm, I always am." She hangs up the phone and drops it back on the seat beside her.

—

Isla parks her truck outside the abandoned asylum that John told her about, and she looks around at the immediate vicinity. It doesn't seem like this area of town gets much traffic, which is convenient for her, but the tall fence is an annoyance. It's late morning as she climbs the chain-link, but the clouds overhead make it darker out than it normally would be. She lands on the other side of the fence and looks at the signs.

KEEP OUT
CONDEMNED BUILDING
NO ENTRY ALLOWED
VIOLATORS PROSECUTED

NO TRESPASSING

The blonde then starts up the steps that she hopes will lead to the entrance of the building. It's not hard finding her way in, the front doors aren't even locked to prevent easy access. She shakes her head as she pulls her E.M.F. detector out of the pocket of her utility jacket and walks further into the cluttered room.

The first area looks like it was probably a lobby of sorts, but it's barely recognizable now. There's dirt and trash all over the floor, overturned chairs, the paint's peeling in many places. Red, black, and blue graffiti cover the walls in barely legible writing.

She makes her way into the south wing, nudging the broken chain out of the way with the toe of her black Vans. The paint's peeling there too, but there's no graffiti on these walls. She's watching to see if the meter in her hand ever spikes, but it stays at zero. That doesn't necessarily mean that the asylum isn't haunted, just that there isn't currently any activity. Spirits can usually only manifest during certain hours of the day, which is why she chose to check it now. It wouldn't be smart to get attacked, and then get lost in a place that she's not familiar with.

At the end of the first hall, she finds a room that creeps her out even more than anything else that she's seen so far. There's a torn curtain that was likely used to provide privacy between patients, and then there's unidentifiable substances floating in some kind of yellow liquid. Her face scrunches when she sees the headless baby doll laying on one of the dusty exam tables.

The blonde tucks the E.M.F detector back into her jacket pocket as she walks around the room, and she's absolutely disgusted by some of the tools that she sees there — tools for lobotomy and electroshock therapy. She can't even imagine what these patients must've endured in a place like this.

The door squeaks open behind her, and she whirls around to see what's there. Her jaw tightens when she sees who just walked into the room — Sam and Dean Winchester.

"Oh, I'm gonna kill 'im." Isla mutters as she turns away from the two men.

"What are you doing in here?" Dean questions, not yet recognizing the woman on the other end of the room. She looks a lot different now than she did the last time he saw her.

"Working... Actually, I was thinking about killing your father. What are you doing here?" She retorts, and the brothers glance at each other.

"Isla?" Sam sounds uncertain.

"And here I thought you couldn't get any taller, Sasquatch." She says as she moves around a support beam to look at more of the room. "But alas, you've stretched past your big brother."

"I haven't seen you in..."

"Four years." She nods. "Well, just shy of anyway."

Dean walks up behind her and lifts a lock of short, blonde hair. "I'm gonna have to come up with a new nickname. You don't exactly match the description of Little Red anymore." He says.

"I thought you were on a different case." Isla starts away from him, but he grabs her arm.

"Who told you that?" He questions, and she looks up at him as her jaw tightens. "I asked you a question."

"Dean." Sam looks between the two of them, eyebrows furrowed.

"You don't think it's a little suspicious that Dad sends us on a hunt, and we just happen to run into her after she bolted years ago?" The older boy asks, not taking his green eyes off of Isla.

"John called me a few days ago." She tells him. "I told him I was busy, that he should call you. He said you were busy, and this was important. So, I made a hellish three day trip, and I'm tired and irritable, and you're hurting my arm." The blonde says, and Dean loosens his grip before letting go of her completely.

"You talked to our dad?" Sam asks as she walks away from his older brother.

"I don't know where he is or what he's doing." Isla says as she walks past him, toward the room's exit. She pushes the door open and heads down the hall to leave the south wing and the asylum.

"Isla!" The younger boy calls as he jogs after her, making his way down the steps outside as she lands on the other side of the fence.

"I have somewhere that I need to be. You guys are here now, work the case." She says as she makes her way over to her truck.

"Hold on. It's been years, we should catch up when this case is over."

"If she wants to leave, let her leave." Dean says as the boys both climb the fence.

"Shut up, Dean." His brother tells him.

"Look, Sam, I'm not heading out of town just yet." Isla says as she looks at him. "I just have something that I really need to be doing in..." She pulls her phone out of her pocket to look at the clock. "Ten minutes, which is about how long it'll take me to get back to my motel. And I need to get back there."

"Dean can follow your truck."

"I can?" The older boy questions, and his brother turns to glare at him.

"I don't care, go ahead." Isla unlocks her truck and climbs inside, and the boys make their way to their own respective sides of the Impala.

Dean's pulling into a parking space as Isla jogs over to her room, quickly unlocking her door. She leaves it cracked behind her, hearing the kitten crying as she rushes across the room to get to the gray carrier.

"What's the matter, honey?"

"Isla?" Sam pushes the door open, but stays outside the room. He's not the type to invade a woman's personal space, especially one that he hardly knows.

"Yeah, come in." She says, clearly not paying the boys any attention as she feels under the blanket in the crate. "Damn it, the heating pad shut off." She mutters.

"Is everything okay?" He asks as he and his older brother make their way into the room.

"Never trust anything you bought at a dollar mart to be reliable for long. Come here, you little shit." The blonde leans down further to get a better look at the kitten while she picks it up.

"You have a cat?" Dean questions, shutting the door behind him.

"Oh, you're cold." Isla stands up, letting the kitten rest on her chest so it can nuzzle into her neck for warmth.

"How old is it?" Sam asks as he walks over to her. "Is it alright if I..."

"Yeah, you're fine." The blonde nods, and he reaches over to lightly stroke the top of the kitten's head with his index finger. "Tiny one here's about a week old, I think a couple'a days over. I lost track on the road, I need to look at a calendar."

"Hey, do you mind if I use your bathroom?" He asks, and she shakes her head as she motions to the door. "Thanks."

The kitten's still crying as Isla walks over to the bag where she has all of the stuff that she's been using to take care of it. Dean watches from the doorway, and he can see that she's struggling a bit.

"Damn it, I can't—" The blonde stands up straight and looks over at Dean. "Can you hold the baby for a few minutes please?"

"Uh..." He shakes his head. "I don't do cats."

"Are you kidding me right now?"

"I'm allergic."

"And I'm holding a baby that'll die if I don't feed it very soon. A baby that I can't feed if it's cold like this." She says as she walks over to him. "I'll buy you Benadryl. 'Cause I happen to think that this kitten dying is a worse consequence than your allergies... Look, if you don't wanna have it close to your face like I do, then sit down and put it on your stomach under your shirt. It needs skin contact to warm up." She looks up at him with raised eyebrows, and he grinds his teeth.

Sam walks out of the bathroom a couple minutes later and he sees Isla in the little kitchen area making the kitten's formula. "Where's the little one?" He asks, and then the older boy sneezes.

"In my shirt." Dean sounds irritated as he stares at the squirming bump on his black t-shirt.

"Your brother's a baby." Isla says as she mixes the formula powder in warm water.

"I'm surprised he's even doing it."

"Just 'cause I'm allergic and don't like 'em doesn't mean I'll let it die." The eldest Winchester says as he reaches under his shirt to cradle the kitten and keep it from crawling to his side.

"Be careful. Kittens are fragile." The blonde tells him.

"I'm not an idiot."

"That wasn't a dig at your intelligence, Einstein." She shoots him a dirty look. "People who aren't used to handling small animals can easily accidentally hurt them."

"But you are?" Sam asks. "Used to handling animals like this one?"

"This one isn't the first kitten I've taken care of, if that's what you're asking."

"Is this a boy or a girl?" Dean asks as she gets the syringe that she uses to feed it.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure yet, but I think it's a girl." She tells him.

"Well, how do you tell?"

"Same way you tell with humans, it's just not as easy with cats. It'll be easier to tell once it's a little older, closer to the three week mark."

"What makes you think it's a girl?" Sam asks.

"Have you ever been around a baby? A boy to be more specific?" Isla asks, and he shakes his head.

"Yeah." Dean nods as he looks at her.

"You know how if you go to change him, and you move the diaper, and he starts peeing—"

"Like a fountain. Yeah."

"Male kittens do the same thing." Isla explains. "This little one's never done that."

"Dude, how did you know that?" Sam asks.

"Dude, I was five when you were in diapers." His older brother chuckles. "You got Dad in the face once, it was hilarious."

Isla smirks when Sam clears his throat uncomfortably. "Don't be embarrassed, Sasquatch. It's perfectly normal for babies." She pats his arm as she passes him to get to his brother.

Dean then lifts his shirt and lets the bottom of it rest on the opposite side of the kitten as Isla kneels down beside him. The kitten's crying, and she reaches over and gently rubs her index finger over its cheek.

"You're not gonna let me weigh you right now, are you?" The blonde asks as she places her hand over the kittens back to feel her temperature. "Well, at least you're warmer. Come on." She picks her up as she stands up straight.

"Ow." Dean rubs a spot on his bare stomach. "Damn thing's got talons." He grumbles, and Isla chuckles as she sits on the floor.

"Who's a good baby?" She smiles as she pets the kitten, and Dean goes to wash his hands.

"Where's her mom?" Sam asks as she gets the kitten situated on its stomach so that she can feed it from the syringe.

"Hang on." She mumbles as she tries to get the black cat to latch onto the nipple, then she watches its throat to make sure that it's actually swallowing the formula as it eats. It doesn't take very long for the kitten to finish, and then she wipes the excess formula from its mouth.

"What are you doing now?" Dean asks, clearly confused when she gets another wet cloth.

"You've really never been around kittens or even puppies before, have you?" She glances between the two men, and both of them shake their heads. "They can't go to the bathroom on their own. They usually have help from their mothers."

"And that's meant to be like..."

"It's called stimulating them. It's like when their mom licks them." She explains.

After drying the kitten's fur, Isla hands it over to Sam so that she can clean things up. The formula for later is already in the fridge, and she throws out the trash and washes her hands. The kitten seems perfectly content with Sam, curled up at his neck by the hood of his sweater as he leans back in his seat, so she leaves them.

"I was driving down the road in California when I saw something on the side of the street." Isla starts as she walks over to sit on the foot of her bed. "Some asshole had hit this beautiful black cat and left her out there to die. I put her in my truck, found the nearest vet, and brought her in. She was pregnant, had two kittens — the smaller one didn't make it, and neither did the mama. The veterinarian asked me what I wanted to do, if I could take the surviving kitten. He said she'd likely end up in the Pound, possibly euthanized if she wasn't adopted soon enough — it gets overcrowded there. Too many people go to breeders when they get kittens or puppies... I know how to take care of her, so..."

"It's a lot of work, isn't it?" Sam asks, and she nods as she takes a deep breath.

"I feed her every two hours. That's why I didn't want to drive out here." She tells him. "I assume all of us ending up here was your dad's plan. He calls me twice a month, every two weeks. Guess he feels bad 'cause I don't have anyone."

"You don't know what he's doing?"

"No." She shakes her head. "I know that he was working some job over in California while I was in Nebraska. I have no idea why he suddenly disappeared. I know that he's not in any one place for very long. The numbers on my phone always change, I think they're payphones. He called me the night that I got her, and then again three days ago. That's the closest time-frame he's called in, and now here we all are."

"He sent us coordinates yesterday." He tells her, and she nods.

"Knowing what day I told him I'd get here." She clears her throat. "So, the asylum — you should look into Sanford Ellicott." The blonde tells them.

"Who?" Dean questions.

"You didn't see the name plate in the room that we were in over there?" She asks, and he shakes his head. "He was the chief of staff there." Isla explains, and he then asks if he can use her laptop to look for information.