⌜ chapter five ⌟

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Dean glances from the road ahead to Isla, who's riding shotgun in the Impala with Minx asleep on her chest.

"What's up?" The blonde lifts her head, as it was resting against the window while her eyes were closed. Her legs are stretched out on the bench, her ankles crossed.

"What's with the hair?" He reaches over and turns down the radio, Bob Seger becoming background noise to their conversation.

"I don't know. Some of the red I cut off, some of it I bleached." She shrugs a shoulder. "Why, do I look bad with blonde hair?"

"No." He shakes his head with a low chuckle, thinking the exact opposite. "No, I think it suits you. Maybe even more than the red. I just thought you really liked it, that's all."

"I did." She nods. "But I'd done different variations of red since I was sixteen. I guess I just wanted to...change it up a bit." She says, and he nods.

"Why'd you cut it?" He asks. "I distinctly remember you wanting your hair to grow out. You found these...vitamins that were supposed to speed up the process." He says, and she chuckles.

"I still take 'em, but they aren't just for my hair." She tells him. "But anyway... In order to get the red out of my hair, I had to bleach it. It kinda fried and split the ends, so I cut it. Why are you so curious about my hair?"

He shrugs. "It surprised me when we saw you. I actually didn't recognize you at first." He admits, much to her amusement. "I couldn't believe it when Sam asked if it was you."

"I mean... I'm not the only one who got a haircut since we saw each other four years ago." She says, and he groans as he shakes his head.

"God. Forget that I ever let my hair get that long." He says, and she laughs as she looks at the clear embarrassment on his face.

"Never."

He smirks as he shakes his head. "You know, when we met, you were this quiet little nineteen-year-old who wasn't one for making friends."

"I'm still not." She says, and he nods.

"Yeah, I've noticed... I don't really know anything about you." He glances at her. "Except that you dyed your hair red when you were sixteen, you know how to rescue kittens, and you have a cousin who's allergic to them."

"There's really nothing interesting to know about me."

"That can't be true." He shakes his head as he stops at a red light. "I mean, what about your parents? What do they think about all the time you spend on the road? Or your siblings? Do you even have any brothers or sisters?"

When she doesn't answer his question, he looks over to find her gaze fixed on the arm of his jacket. He can see the tension in her jaw as her teeth grind, and she turns in her seat so she's no longer facing him. She holds the kitten against her as she leans forward and turns up the volume on the radio; Beautiful Loser fills the car, and she stares out the passenger side window.

Sam calls Isla while she and Dean are stopped at a gas station, and what he has to say surprises them both. He never made it past Missouri in his quest to find their dad. He drove a few hours, but needed some sleep so he wouldn't wreck the truck. The next morning, he was going through his email and found something that he got from an old friend of his from Stanford.

Her brother's been arrested for murder — a murder that happened while she claims he was with her having a few beers. She's convinced that the police have the wrong guy, and Sam believes her, knowing the character of his friend. He thinks that it might be their kind of thing, and he wants them to meet up with him in St. Louis to help him catch the actual killer.

"Alright, what's the address I'm meeting you at after I drop Isla off at a motel?" Dean asks as he stops at a red light, but he doesn't get a reply. "Sam wears women's underwear." He glances over at Isla's phone, which is resting on the bench seat between them.

"Sorry, I was looking over some information that I found." Sam's voice comes through again. "I'll text it to you, but I gotta go." He tells his brother, and then hangs up the phone.

"Nice talking to you too." He mutters as the blonde wordlessly picks up her phone and then stuffs it into her sweater pocket.

Dean looks over at Isla for a second, but doesn't say anything as the light turns green and he starts the car again. She's keeping Minx propped up as the kitten snuggles into her neck, and she hasn't really said much of anything since he asked about her family.

—

Isla's spent the entire time that they've been in St. Louis locked in her motel room. She's been taking care of the kitten — not to mention, playing with her. Now that Minx's eyes and ears are open, and she's more stable on her feet, she's got the energy to terrorize the room.

Sam comes by with food and an update on the case. Dean's just outside making sure that they have all their silver readily available and easily accessible for when they finally find the monster that's been killing different women in the area.

"A shapeshifter?" The blonde raises her eyebrows, and Sam nods. "I've never worked a case with one before." She tells him, and he turns back to look at her.

"They can...basically change their skin to look like anyone that they want. This one seems to be turning into different men and then attacking the guys' girlfriends." He explains. "The dog that was near Zach's freaked — seemed to change because it could sense what was there. And their eyes change in camera footage or when exposed to direct light."

"And they can look like anyone?" She questions, and he nods. "That's disturbing. I'm actually kinda glad that I'm stuck on kitten-sitting duty."

Sam chuckles as he starts for the door. "We'll get it taken care of."

"Hey, I'm sorry about your friend." Isla says, causing him to stop walking. "About the one who might take the fall for this thing, and for the one who's pissed at you for getting in the middle."

"Thanks." He sighs as he glances in her direction. "I gotta get back to Dean, we're taking off to look for the shifter's lair. We'll check in later." He tells her, and she nods.

Later that night, Isla's just about finished up with Minx's feeding when there's a knock on her motel room door. The blonde walks over and opens it to find Dean standing there. "Hey." She greets before turning around and walking over to the kitchen area, letting him in. "I thought you guys were gonna bring back food."

"Sam's getting it." He says as he shuts the door behind him, and she nods as she cleans up the kitten formula that she spilled. "He's meeting us here in a bit."

"Oh, okay." She double checks that the seal on the container is closed properly and then she packs the stuff away in the bag that she has for all of Minx's stuff. "How's the case going?"

"We hit a bit of a bump — found the shifter's underground lair, but then he got away."

"Underground?" She echoes, and he nods as she turns to face him.

"Sewer system."

She raises her eyebrows as she nods slowly. "Gross." The blonde mutters as he walks over to her, reaching his hand up to pet the kitten. Minx hisses at him, and Isla's eyebrows furrow as she looks down at the small, black cat in her hand.

"She okay?" He asks, and she nods as she looks back up at him.

"Yeah, uh... She's just been in a mood for the past hour or so. I haven't been sitting in one spot, and she probably doesn't like it." Isla says as she moves to put Minx in her crate with the warm compress that she reheated a couple minutes ago. "I took a shower, so I wasn't with her. And she sleeps better when she's somewhere dark." The blonde adds as she tosses a thin blanket over the cat carrier.

"You know, uh..." He watches her walk over to her duffle bag that's sitting on the foot of her bed, and she starts pushing her clothes around. He can see different colored materials. "I've been doing some thinking about this shifter, and I've come up with a theory."

"A theory about the shifter?" She questions. "What about it?"

"Why he does what he does, why he is the way he is."

"As if there's a justifiable reason for what it did to those women?" She glances back at him. "Who cares?"

"I don't know, I mean... Maybe he's just looking for someone...so he won't be so lonely. He's got no one. I bet all he wants is for someone to love him." He says as he walks up behind her. "He's like me. Everybody needs a little human touch now and then. You understand that, don't you?"

"Not really." She turns her head slightly as he trails his fingers down her arm, starting at her shoulder and moving toward her hand. "There's a difference between being lonely and being alone. I'm perfectly happy with the latter."

"Nobody likes being alone."

Her jaw tightens when she feels his chest against her back. "It sure as hell beats having company like you." She swings her arm back, and he groans when a blade is plunged into his side.

He doubles over, stumbling back as his hand clutches the handle of the knife. He looks up at her as he pulls it out, and he sees the silver knife in her right hand as she faces him. He chuckles as his gaze moves to her face, and he stands up straight.

"What gave me away?" He questions. "The fact that Dean never flirts with you?"

"Actually, it was the cat." She tells him. "She's a great judge of character — apparently she can sense psycho-maniac when there's a murderer standing in front of her."

"Dean's wrong about you." He says as he turns the knife over in his hand. "He thinks you're a coward — always running from your problems... You left your family, you left him and John the moment things got even the slightest bit tough. Hell, you run from difficult conversations."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know everything that Dean does." He counters.

"Which is nothing."

"He may know nothing, but I can read between the lines." He says as he starts to move closer to her. "The way you shut down when your family's mentioned; your insecurities about people finding you annoying or simply not wanting you around anymore... He kept the note that you left when you disappeared four years ago. I bet you didn't have the slightest clue."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Isla questions, but instead of responding with words, he lunges at her.

The blonde jumps back, and he tackles her onto the bed behind her. She struggles underneath him as he holds her down, landing blow after blow on her face. The blade of the knife slices into his forearm, and he lets out a scream as he pulls back, trying to get away from the silver. She takes the opportunity to knock him off of her before quickly getting up off of the bed.

"You're tougher than he gives you credit for." The shifter laughs as he gets to his feet. "Dean has you pegged as a pathetic little girl who needs someone to come to her rescue. Why else would his father saddle him and Sam with babysitting duty? You and that damn cat."

He goes after her again, and a lot of blood is drawn on both ends during the fight. Isla lands on her back and she coughs up blood as she then rolls onto her side. The silver knife landed a couple feet away from her, and he's on her again before she can even try and get to it. His knees are on either side of her hips and his fingers curl around her throat as he holds her in place.

"It's rather pitiful, actually." He moves her hair off of her forehead as his green eyes stare into her hazel ones, and he leans down so that his lips are so close to her ear that she can feel them brush against her skin. "The blonde hair, the way you slimmed down since he last saw you... You might actually be Dean's type now. He's definitely thought about it once or twice since seeing you in that asylum... Too bad neither of you will ever be able to find out."

Isla's struggling to breathe as he tightens his grip around her throat, and her nails are digging into his skin. Small beads of red blood trickle down his arm from the crescents that she's gouging into his flesh. She's trying to move her hips, wanting to force his body up to allow her more room, but he's too heavy with her poor footing.

"You're a nice girl, Isla. I mean, I actually like you." He tells her, his voice eerily calm as he continues to strangle her. "Believe me, it makes this harder. But I gotta do what I gotta do."

She can barely hear Minx's tiny, frantic meows across the room; the sound is muffled by the blood pumping in her ears. The adrenaline's trying to take over, but she doesn't have enough strength against the shifter above her. Her right hand flails around the carpet, trying to reach the knife that she dropped when she fell, but it's too far away. Her fingertips hit the end of the handle, and it only gets pushed farther off.

The door bursts open then, and the shifter looks up to find the face that he copied staring back at him. Two gunshots ring out, and he flies off of the bloodied blonde, finally allowing her proper airflow.

Isla gaps, which immediately turns to coughing as she rolls onto her side, facing away from the now dead shapeshifter. A line of blood-red saliva spills from her mouth as she tries to fill her lungs with air, barely managing to crawl away from the shifter.

"Isla!" Sam runs over to her, helping her into a sitting position near the bed. "Hey. Hey, are you okay? Can you breathe? Is anything broken?" He asks as he cradles her head, looking at her split lip and the multitude of the small cuts scattered around her face.

A sob wracks her body as she reaches toward him, and he moves to sit beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Isla leans into him as his back rests against the bed; her breathing is still choppy as she squeezes her eyes shut.

Dean looks around the room, taking in the scene before him. There's blood everywhere, including on the rumpled blankets on the bed — not something he ever wants to see. The carpet seems to be where most of the bloodstain is. Well, there, and on Isla. Looking at her is the worst part of it all; the blonde's still in tears as she presses herself into Sam, a hand covering a face as though it can provide her with some form of protection.

And then he hears the cries of Minx, causing his eyes to dart around the room. Figuring that he probably shouldn't go near Isla at the moment, he decides to comfort the one of the girls that he actually can. So, he then heads over to the crate and opens it up, hearing the sirens of the approaching police cars outside.

There's no way that Dean can get out of the room before they show up anyway, so his best bet is to lie his ass off when they come inside and see his dead doppelganger laying on the floor. That should be an easy enough story to come up with. Right?