Part 4 in the Meant To Be series

THAT OL' BLACK MAGIC…

Author: Slayer Isis

Summary: (Takes place a couple of months after Part 3)…Twenty-one-year-old Isabella Jamison is a victim of a terrible car accident. But she is neither conscious nor dead. To solve the mystery, she asks the help of a teacher she once had: Professor Cromwell of Northwestern. In doing this, Isabella receives the help of Dean and Sam Winchester.

Summary Note: Story takes place after events in Part 3 (obviously). According to the WB Supernatural, the episodes "Faith" and "Shadow" (and everything in between) have taken place. Obviously, since Dean is now with Amy, he never slept with Cassie or did any of his usual Dean-Winchester-flirting-stuff. It'll be explained in the story.

2nd Summary Note: With "Faith" and "Shadow" (and everything between)…I'm trying to find the best amount of time that has passed. Part 3 of my series left off a few days before New Years-2006. So let's just say, for the sake of my story, Part 4 takes place in…APRIL…aha! There you go…

Rated: PG – PG-13

Distribution: I do not own Supernatural and etc. etc. The things I make up are obviously MINE.

Theme: Romance/Action/Adventure/Drama/Angst/Supernatural (obviously)

Dedication: To my sister, Sarah

Feedback/Reviews/Comments appreciated!

Hope everyone enjoys the fourth installment of the Meant To Be series…

O.O.O.O.O.O.O.

Chapter One – Fun in Evanston

Metallica's "Enter Sandman" was blasting through the speakers. The windows of the red Honda Civic were rolled down as the young woman switched lanes on the interstate.

"Say your prayers, little one

Don't forget, my son,

To include everyone

Isabella Jamison laid one hand on the wheel while the other was carefully drinking a double chocolate chip frappuccino from Starbucks.

Tuck you in, warm within

Keep you free from sin

Till the sandman he comes

Her long black hair blew off to the side as she drove. She always loved the feeling of the windows down while driving. It would have been better if her car was a convertible – she could just put the top down.

Sleep with one eye open

Gripping your pillow tight

She was a gorgeous young woman. Straight, slick black hair that reached the center of her back and pale blue eyes that reminded people of the night sky when they looked at her. Isabella possessed fair skin – in between peach-and-pale. She was thin, possessing the body of a model. Family and friends would joke and say: "Izzy's pure estrogen," due to her perfect breasts and body type. She worked out regularly, like she was supposed to, but never seemed dedicated enough to get abs; she had a slender, smooth stomach.

Exit: light

Enter: night

Take my hand

We're off to never-never land

Her clothes were, of course, perfect: tight jeans, a black halter top with a tight-thin jean jacket over it. Her favorite part about her outfit was her black Converses. She wore them as much as she could; she was so used to wearing Stilettos or other types of heels that caused pain every day. Isabella's agent hated her Converses, and begged many times for her to get rid of them.

Something's wrong, shut the light

Heavy thoughts tonight

And they aren't of Snow White

Isabella paid close attention when she saw the green sign: EVANSTON, IL – NEXT EXIT.

A relieved smile crossed that graceful face. Finally, she thought. She had been driving straight from California. She hated planes and trains. Driving was the only thing that could possibly work for her.

She placed the empty Starbucks cup in the cup holders and turned the music on louder.

She was excited about seeing her family. It had been too long. She wasn't looking forward to the regular lectures, though, like: "You should have finished university" and "Being an actress is a nice goal, but have a back-up" and "Hollywood will corrupt you."

The twenty-one-year-old smiled to herself. She told herself: "It'll be okay, Spielberg will be begging me to be the lead in one of his movies. Some day…"

She made a turn and found, to her excitement, she was now on a regular road. No more highways or interstates. She was more relieved to go fifty or forty miles per hour than sixty or seventy. She hated speeding too.

Her eyes fell upon the old familiar sites. She had missed Illinois. The trees were blooming and the flowers and bushes looked full and fresh on the side of the road.

Dreams of war, dreams of liars

Dreams of dragon's fire

And of things that will bite

Sleep with one eye open

Gripping your pillow tight

It would only be half an hour or less before she would arrive at the old house. Isabella sat up excitedly in her seat.

Exit: light

Enter: night

Take my hand

We're off to never-never land

She scratched her ear annoyingly. A fly had most likely got caught in the stirring wind and was now buzzing around her car. She could ear its tiny wings flap. Isabella waved her hand by her ear, she hated that she was missing the song.

Now I lay me down to sleep

Pray the Lord my soul to keep

If I die before I wake

Pray the Lord my soul to take

She sighed in her stiff position and adjusted herself in her seat. Her slender fingers combed through her black hair and she relaxed her head back.

Hush little baby, don't say a word

And never mind that noise you heard

It's just the beasts under your bed

In your closet, in your head

"Dammit…" Isabella muttered. She could have sworn she heard her cell phone ringing. But her eyes glanced down in the passenger seat and she reached for her metallic Razr cellular device. There had been no call. Funny, she thought miserably. I've been driving too long. I'm hearing things too now. Obviously this bothered her. She realized then she had not heard a ringing or a buzzing. She could have sworn she heard a person's voice.

Isabella looked around. A part of her almost felt like someone was in the car with her. Her luggage was in the trunk and a couple of her jackets and sweaters were in the backseat. But there was no other living soul in the car.

It's just me…Isabella reminded herself. Stop freaking out…there's no one in the car…just drive…

She shook her head. It made her feel better, like all the crazy thoughts were being rattled out.

Isabella blinked several times and widened her eyes.

Exit: light

Enter: night

Grain of sand

There was no time to scream. She realized the car was going straight. The steering wheel was stuck.

And the car was directed toward a very large telephone pole.

Exit: light

Enter: night

Take my hand

We're off to never-never land.."

Isabella fainted out of fear as she realized there was nothing she could do. Her hands fell limp to her side and the small red Honda collided with the huge metal pole.

The front top crushed completely like paper and Isabella's body hit the wheel hard.

The car stopped abruptly in the middle of the street. Dozens of cars pulled over and people walking out of small shops rushed to the site.

A woman was on her phone, calling an ambulance; while another man was desperately crying out if there happened to be a doctor anywhere.

As the large crowd began to grow, Isabella opened her eyes and realized she was safe on the ground.

"I'm okay…" was the first thing she muttered aloud. It was a surprise she wasn't hurt. I must have been flung from the car.

She moved slowly, as to not increase any pain or injury she may have suffered. But Isabella found she felt fine. Somewhat numb, but fine. She picked herself off the ground as if she had merely tripped on a mattress.

Isabella groggily waved her hands in the air. "Hey, I'm okay…"

The people were still gathered around the car. Isabella narrowed her eyes at the sight of her dismantled car.

She stomped her foot angrily against the street and approached the crowd.

But Isabella stopped again. She couldn't understand this. She had to be imagining things.

She peered over a small boy in the street who was licking a vanilla ice cream cone sloppily.

Isabella was staring at her own body. She knew she was standing right there, behind the messy little child, but she was actually staring at her unconscious, bloody body in the car.

Her body was over the steering wheel, her head gently resting off to the side. Her face had several cuts and there was a very large blood stain on the shoulder of her jacket.

Isabella touched her own shoulder. There was no pain. No blood. No feeling, at all.

"Oh God…" Isabella whispered. Wake up…wake up…wake up!

"HEY!" she cried desperately. She looked down and saw the little boy. "Hey…" she whispered softly and reached her hand out.

Her hand flowed through the little boy so easily. She reeled back, terrified, at the thought that her hand had completely vanished into the little body's back.

"Oh God…" Isabella brought a hand to her mouth. There was still not much feeling. Except for complete and utter terror.

O.O.O.O.O.O.

Two weeks later…

The club consisted of two floors, the bottom meant for dancing and the top had tables and several bars. The walls were painted black and the floors were made of black-and-white checkered-marble. It was relatively cool in the place, considering more than four hundred bodies were dancing so close together.

Purple, blue and white lights flashed repeatedly along the walls and floors, making people look like they were dancing like robots. Everything and everyone seemed to move slowly.

She stood on the top floor, leaning over the metal banister. Her eyes watched as her group of friends were dancing off to the side with several unfamiliar men. They looked they were having a good time. Some of them would occasionally look up and beg with their eyes for her to come down and join them.

A long black skirt with a slit by the thigh and a thin white top, which the sleeves hung off the shoulders, was not the "proper" attire her friends had wished. They begged that they wear something more revealing – like a mini skirt and a bustier of some sort.

Amy Cromwell liked the fact that she was presentable and still comfortable in the place. Her hair had grown longer, to her joy, so her hair was brushed smoothly down the sides of her face. Her hair was back to the normal brown color now – most of the red had now faded. Her hands rested gently against the cold metal as she relaxed and continued to watch her friends have a good time.

She sighed with a smile as she saw one of them twirl in a goofy circle and laughed with the others. Amy laughed too, as if she were down there with them.

Not turning, Amy realized there was a man approaching her.

He accosted her smoothly, leaning against the banister with her and taking a quick sip of a beer. He wore a tight black T-shirt and had spiky dark brown hair. The man was handsome – large green eyes and a wide smile with small lips. He looked down with her to the floor and cocked his head to the side.

"Ya know," the man mentioned, "I never thanked you properly."

"Don't mention it," Amy replied plainly, her eyes still focused on her friends.

The man continued: "You saved me about fifteen dollars – I didn't even realize the bouncer was trying to rip me off."

"It happens to the best of us."

"Like I said, I never thanked you."

"I already said 'Don't mention it'."

He laughed, a snobbish laugh, one that you might hear at a cheesy cocktail party in the movies. He was trying to be so suave and it made Amy laugh.

"How about a drink? Or better – a dance?" he asked quickly.

Amy shook her head to herself and turned to the man slowly. "You thanked me. I accepted your gratitude – now go find some girl who looks like she's not having fun."

"That's exactly what I'm doing."

"Trust me, this is me having fun. Woo hoo…" she waved her finger in the air stupidly.

The man grinned seductively and brought his face closer to hers. Amy backed away.

"C'mon, please, I promise to be a perfect gentleman."

Amy narrowed her eyes at him awkwardly and grinned: "Not a lot happening upstairs, huh?"

"If only you knew the thoughts I'm thinking…"

She shrugged and replied, "Don't underestimate me."

"Please, just one little dance?" he asked sweetly.

You remind me of a pathetic version of Dean Winchester. Amy shook her head and said, "I'm with my friends. I'm having a good time. See ya."

She turned and continued to gaze down at her friends.

The man did not take his defeat easy.

He reached over and rested his hand on hers.

Amy turned around and firmly said, "You're wasting my time." She bit her lip. "And yours."

"And how's that?" he replied, licking the side of his mouth quickly.

She tilted her head at him and shook her head disappointedly. "Go home. It's late. Tuck your kids in. Go talk to your wife."

His eyes grew wide and he removed his hand from hers. There was no ring on his finger, and no way of the man understanding how Amy seemed to know. He said nothing and turned around. The man walked away scratching the back of his neck.

Amy didn't watch as the man went to a booth with his friends, grabbed his jacket, and left.

O.O.O.O.O.O.

Rochelle, Violet, Dana, Erin and KC were skipping up the stairs as they ran into Amy. The friends laughed together and Rochelle, a tall African American woman with dark black hair, smiled and reached for Amy's arm.

"C'mon girl, why not dance?" Rochelle asked loudly, the music more intensified now.

Amy shook her head and, arm in arm with Rochelle, led the girls back to their table.

O.O.O.O.O.O.

They were all dressed in a sexy fashion – short skirts, tight and/or revealing tops, and they all had their hair pulled up to reveal more of their necks and chests.

Amy sat down with a pink martini as the other girls joined at the circular table.

The six laughed and talked with one another about the basic things: how their week went, how their current boy friends were doing, and job complaining.

Rochelle worked as an assistant in a law firm. She had wanted to be a lawyer for some time, graduating with a degree from Harvard to do so, but changed her mind drastically after graduation. For the time being, this was her opportunity to discover her 'true calling'.

Violet was an AP World History teacher at the nearby high school. She was Amy's closest friend – Amy had tried time and time again to beg Violet to let Amy try and get her a job in one of the universities, but Violet simply denied the generous offer. She really felt her place was with teenagers.

Dana and KC were cousins, mistaken for sisters sometimes, who usually dressed alike – Dana in a gold sequent top while KC was in silver. They worked together in a doctor's office.

Erin was another close friend of Amy's – of course, they were all Amy's close friends – but Erin and Violet were the ones she spent most of her time with. Erin had been the first person Amy met when she first moved to Illinois. Erin's uncle was a professor at Northwestern. Her job was in Human Resources for a big company called Hi-Tek.

Amy stared around her group of friends as they continued to engage in gossip and fun conversation. It had been a while since she had had an outing like this.

She had missed this.

"So, my parents want to meet him," KC was describing to the table, "and I already warned them that they wouldn't like him. Chad is very passionate about politics and worse: he's a very passionate Democrat."

"Your parents would really have an issue about that?" Violet laughed as she drank champagne from a clear blue glass. She caught Amy's eye and winked at her friend quickly.

KC shrugged and said, "You bet your ass. Plus they're going to take one look at him…" She paused and noticed everyone was waiting for her to finish. "And once they see how gorgeous he is – they'll know we've been-"

"CHEERS!" a group of men called out from around the corner.

The young woman laughed and they all cheered their different varieties of glasses.

Dana, sitting to Amy's right, tapped her shoulder and asked, "So, when are we meeting your guy…"

"Yeah, I know," Erin laughed. "We want to meet this Dean character."

"Hold your horses," Amy laughed as she took a sip of her martini. "He's coming into town – with his brother – in like two days. You can meet him then."

"AND this brother of his," Rochelle laughed.

Amy rolled her eyes and warned, "Behave, girls. I haven't seen them in four months. We want a quiet, normal get-together."

"Quiet and normal?" Violet questioned. "Well, that's definitely NO fun."

Anything without ghosts, demons, or psychotic females is fun for us, Amy thought.

"Good, so when they arrive, we'll all go dancing!" Erin announced.

Amy nodded and said, "No worries – you'll meet 'em. Just give them some time – I want them to relax while they're visiting."

"We can help them relax," KC whispered slyly. All the girls laughed again and continued their drinks.

They were obviously drunk. Amy had only had half a martini. She laughed with her friends and allowed herself to join in the fun.

It was a sad thought: Dean and Sam had been away for four months. It felt so much longer than that. They had kept in close contact: weekly phone calls, when they could, e-mails and several times they sent post cards.

Two days…just be patient…two days…Amy took a long sip of her drink.

"Professor!" she heard from a distance.

Amy turned around, expecting to see one of her students. She saw them a couple of times when she came to the club, most of them getting in with fake IDs.

But there was no student to be seen. No familiar face, other than the drunk girls sitting at the table beside her.

Odd, Amy turned back around.

It was only seconds later when she heard, "Amy!"

She turned around again, more quickly this time, in case someone was playing around with her.

Again, there was no one.

"What's up?" Rochelle asked and Amy turned to her friend slowly.

"Never mind," Amy noted and then refrained from drinking any more that night.

O.O.O.O.O.O.

The cab dropped her off within the apartment complex. Amy asked the driver to stop by the entrance, even though he offered to drive her to her place, the young woman asked to walk a bit.

The night was cool and the plants and trees around her were fresh. She loved April. The weather was perfect in Illinois. She loved the cool, random breezes and the soft sounds of the wind blowing around her.

Amy ran a hand through her hair and continued her walk up the hill to her apartment. She had removed her heels and was now walking barefoot in the road.

It was close to three o'clock in the morning. Her friends were still partying.

She glanced up to her apartment and noted her lightless home.

So tired…she muttered to herself.

O.O.O.O.O.O.

She dropped her heels by the door as she closed and locked it. Amy took her black purse and then dropped it off on the kitchen counter as she entered the main living room of her apartment.

The walls were still nicely cluttered with movie, art, and photography posters. There were more books stuffed into the book shelves, most of the new ones containing information about the paranormal and supernatural on-goings in the world.

Amy stretched her arms above her and yawned. She could easily fall onto her leather couches and go to sleep.

She merely sat down for a moment and combed her hair with her fingers.

"Amy…" she heard her name again.

She raised her head quickly and leaned further back into her couch. Am I that drunk? She thought fearfully.

Amy looked around the quiet apartment. Not another voice. She sat up in the couch and narrowed her eyes at the air.

"Mary…" Amy called out loud. "Jessica…"

"You can hear me!" the voice cried happily.

Amy, more alarmed than ever, jumped out of the couch and her eyes searched around the apartment wildly.

"Look!" Amy called aloud. "Spirit, ghost, whatever! Just…relax…you're dead, okay? Get over it! I can't help unless you let me see you – and if you don't want me to see you, then go into the light! Okay? Go on…crossover…it's easy-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" the voice asked oddly.

Amy widened her eyes. "Okay, I hate this whole only-voice-thing!"

She almost had a heart attack that moment – for a figure randomly appeared before her. It made Amy jump back and she fell onto the couch.

It was a young woman standing before her. A familiar person. She wore black Converses, jeans, a black top and a jean jacket. She had dark black hair and pale blue eyes. The face was slightly pale, as if the young woman had been sick earlier. Amy continued to stare at the figure in front of her.

This was not like the regular apparitions. Usually the ghosts who had problems crossing over looked like they did when they were dead – rotting, almost melting flesh and sunken faces.

This woman was gorgeous – but her face told Amy that she was incredibly frightened but glad that Amy was looking at her.

"Professor Cromwell…" the young woman whispered happily.

Amy narrowed her eyes surprisingly. "Wait…Isabella…Izzy?"

The young girl clapped her hands together excitedly. "Aha! You can see me!"

She closed her eyes tiredly and reopened them. Yes, Isabella was still right there in front of her.

"I'm not dead," Isabella noted.

Amy looked down and found that Isabella was standing in the middle of her black table. Her legs had gone through the top surface.

She cocked her head to the side and Amy sighed, "This should be interesting."

O.O.O.O.O.O.

A/N: I KNOW I KNOW! I just finished Part 3 and already I'm updating a NEW story! But I couldn't help it – I was bored and I had to do something! I hope you're all enjoying – please, reviews/feedback/comments appreciated – especially on the first chapters. MORE COMING ASAP!