"You gonna be alright, man," Sam asks as he parks the car in front of their old house. It's a normal looking place, two stories and painted a light blue with darker blue trim. Out front was the tree in the picture, the same one that Sam had been drawing almost obsessively just six hours ago.
Liza turns in her seat to peer out the back window at the pale yellow two-story house that had once belonged to Christopher and Alice Mayson. The only real memories Liza had of it came from Christopher driving by it on occasion, telling his girls about all the plans he had made for them before Alice was killed. She was probably three the last time they'd been here, the memories fuzzy like when you try to watch a movie through static.
"Let me get back to you on that," Dean responds. It draws her out of the thoughts trying to pull her down, Liza getting out alongside the boys and following them towards the old Winchester house. "Liza, if you wanna go check out your house…." He trails off with a shrug. "Go on, we'll meet back at the Impala."
"Thank you," she smiles, patting his arm in a sort of joined sympathy. As the boys continue forward, Liza turns and makes her way to the house she'd live in for only eight months. The house needed to have some fresh paint slapped on it, the yellow fading in some places and the white trim mostly chipped off. The windows are locked with the curtains drawn, so it's impossible to see inside, but the for sale sign in the front yard let her know she could sneak in for a quick trip down memory lane before heading back.
Looking around to make sure no one was watching her, Liza pulls the lock pick set out of her bra and gets to work, doing it as discreetly as possible in case someone came outside to water their lawn or something. That's a thing normal people do, right? Water their lawns and carpool? Still, to any nosey neighbors she looked like a woman having trouble getting her key to work unless they got too close. After a few seconds longer than usual, she has the door unlocked and shut behind her.
The entryway leads directly into the living room, the walls of both rooms painted a boring white. Clean patches along the walls show that there used to pictures hung up and dents in the white carpet show where the furniture was placed. The kitchen is through a doorway and across the hall, gas stove, and refrigerator in one place, the cabinets painted Coca-Cola red, and black and white tiles making up the floor
Doors were shut on either side of the hallway, at least four of them altogether and painted the same boring white as the rest of the house. The first door on the right turns out to be a bathroom with the same color scheme as the kitchen sans red cabinets; the door on the left is a little girl's bedroom with pastel pink walls and small crown details painted on the white baseboards.
The next door opens to the master bathroom, boasting a large mirror set into the wall above a double sink counter, made complete by a whirlpool tub and a shower tucked neatly into a corner. Liza takes a moment to appreciate the brown tiles that made up the floor and the granite countertop that really matched well with the dark red towels and wash cloths. It wasn't bad compared to the rest of the house, one of the few with any real personality. She snags a towel before making her way to the last door on the right.
The next room turns out to be the master bedroom, soft cream walls and gauzy blue curtains hanging in front of the three windows that looked almost teal in the afternoon sunlight flooding past them. There's a lawn chair set up in the far corner and sitting in that lawn chair is a man Liza had hoped she'd never have to see again. The man could probably be a model if he moved to the city, his dark hair barely brushing his shoulders, a pair of forest green eyes that his daughter had inherited, his nose a little too big for his face and his mouth a little too small. There's stubble along his jaw that makes him look older than his twenty-five years and Liza knows that he has some impressive muscles hiding under his tee shirt. He smirks at Liza from where he was sitting, slouching in the chair with his ankles crossed and a cigarette between two fingers of his left hand.
"Good afternoon, Liza," he says in a sinfully seductive drawl that was as natural to him as breathing.
"Don't call me that," she growls at him, remembering all the times he'd cheated on Dana over the three years before she'd killed herself. "You don't get to call me that anymore." He makes a face, taking a long drag from the cigarette.
"So hateful nowadays. I remember how welcoming you were when we first met."
"That was before I knew you were the type of guy to leave my sister and niece without a cent or even a fucking note!" He scoffs, licking his thin lips before taking another slow drag. Noah Archer was attractive, and he knew it; he's the type that used his looks to get what he wanted. "What are you doing here anyway, Archer?"
"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by."
"Really? You did not just use that line on me, you pretentious douche."
"Aw, Liza, you look so cute when you're flustered like that." He stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray and gets up, walking over to Liza. She glowers up at him, watching as he sets his hands flat on the wall on either side of her head, allowing him to think he actually had her caged in. "You were so temperamental when you were younger, I liked that about you. Of course, you always turned to jelly when I was around." He grins, leaning in close to sniff her neck. "Mm, vanilla."
With a grin of her own, she brings her hands up to rest on his shoulders, so she could rise up on her tiptoes, lips brushing his ear whenever she spoke. "Do you remember that other thing I always did when I was younger?"
"Hmm?"
"I used to have this little habit of finding bullies and then kicking their asses." He pulls back slightly, dark eyes widening when she brings her hand back in a fist and socks him in the face. He stumbles backwards a few steps, clutching at his nose with a howl. "A little tip for the next time you run into a woman you used to know, don't be a complete dick to her when she's capable of kicking your skinny ass." He glares at her, the blood dripping from his nose to the white carpeting. Her grin is genuine and a little smug, stealing one of his cigarettes before lighting it and leaving without another glance back at him. Archer might be a decent hunter, but he's also an enormous tool.
By the time Liza makes it back to the Impala, they guys are leaning against it like two old timers that swapped war stories. "Hey, Liza, what took you so long," Sam asks, barely sparing her a glance before he went back to flipping through his dad's journal.
"Oh, you know, taking care of some trash that was left behind." She shrugs, throwing the cigarette down on the road before she joins them. "Y'all get anything interesting?" Dean opens his mouth to answer, but the second his eyes flick over her shoulder his expression darkens, and the words seem to dry up in his throat. "What?" She looks behind her, finding Archer marching towards them.
"What are you…?" Sam trails off upon spotting Archer, giving a displeased growl. "The great white douche bag."
"Nice to see again too, Sammy," Archer grimaces, using a tissue to wipe the drying blood off his face.
"Did Liza do that to you, Archer," Dean asks.
"Who else?"
"That's my girl." Liza can hear the smile in Dean's voice as he wraps a protective arm around her shoulders. "I guess those lessons stuck after all." Archer gives a sarcastic smile, throwing the tissue down with a frown. "What the hell are you doing here, Archer?" He shrugs with a long sigh, stuffing one hand in his pocket.
"I know the family in your old house, I used to date the mom and she was complaining that she heard rats. Now, we all know what that means when you hear them but never see them, don't we?" He looks smug and all Liza wants to do is punch him again and break that pretty nose of his. "I guess we'll be working together on this one. Who knows, maybe me and Liza can connect. It'll be just like old times." Liza brings her foot up hard against his midsection, knocking him to the ground as satisfaction blooms in her chest.
"Take your old times and shove them up your ass," she snarls at him.
"We just gotta chill out, that's all," Dean says as he waits on the car to fill up. Liza sits on the trunk of the car, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight on her skin. "If this was any other kind of job, what would we do?"
"Sit around a motel room and get drunk until inspiration strikes," Archer suggests, leaning back against the Impala on Liza's right. He isn't looking at them, his eyes glued to the ass of a pretty redhead walking towards the convenience store.
"We'd try to figure out what we're dealing with," Sam says with a scowl, pushing away from the car and moving to stand next to his brother. "We'd dig into the history of the house."
"Exactly," Dean nods.
"But we already know that history," Liza points out. "John wrote every tiny detail down in his journal and you've memorized the damn thing." She raises her head a little, looking at Dean over the rim of her sunglasses. "How about we rely on some of your memory, huh? What do you remember about the night that started everything?"
"Not much." He shakes his head, eyes nervously shifting everywhere and not keeping eye contact for long. "I remember the fire, the heat…. Then I carried you out the front door." He gestures towards Sam as he speaks, staring straight ahead as he tries to remember. "We, uh, stayed at Mister Mayson's house for a bit while Dad got himself together, and I remember you two playing while Liza's sister fixed my meals."
"You carried me out," Sam asks with a little surprise and a lot of admiration.
"Yeah. What, you never knew that?"
"No."
"And, uh, well, you two know Dad's story as much as I do. Mom was…. On the ceiling and whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her."
"Bummer," Archer states in a bored manner. "Old man Winchester have any theories on what put your mom up there and turned her into a crispy critter?" Liza punches his shoulder as hard as she can, making him wince and rub the spot with a pout. "What the fuck?"
"Work on keeping your brain-to-mouth filter working," she snaps. "Before my impulse control and good morals fly out the window and I stab you." He makes a face, mimicking her in a high-pitched tone. "You see, that right there is why I gave my knife to Sammy, but don't think for one second that I won't punch you in the fucking throat."
"That's enough," Sam interrupts irritably, picking her up off the car and depositing her between him and Dean so that Dean is between Archer and her. She doesn't know how much good that will do though, because she knows that Dean wants to hurt Archer as badly as she does. "If we're going to figure out what's going on now, we have to work together to figure out what happened back then, see if it's the same thing."
"Yeah," Dean nods," talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time."
"Does this feel like just another job to you guys?"
"No," Archer shakes his head," because if this was just another job and I was working side-by-side with a woman, I would have gotten laid by now." Liza looks past Dean at the other man, her eyebrows raised in a you're an emotionally stunted dick expression. Dean shares her look, shaking his head a little.
"I'm going to the bathroom." Dean walks off, leaving the rest of them behind to watch the car. Sam pays for the gas, putting the pump back in place as Liza screws the cap back on.
"So," Archer says, drawing out the word and sliding over next to Liza," who are you bunking with tonight, Liza?" His hand glides over the trunk towards her waist, but Sam stops him, swiftly twisting Archer's hand behind his back and pressing his face against the car. "Ah, ah, I wasn't doing anything, Sasquatch!"
"I'm getting really tired of dealing with your shit," he hisses, forcing Archer's arm up a little higher. "You don't get to call her Liza, you don't get to make those stupid remarks that you think are witty, and you certainly don't get to touch her. Do you understand, Archer?"
"Y-yes!"
"Good boy." Sam shoves him harder against the car before letting go. Liza rests a hand on Sam's arm, pressing a thank you kiss to his cheek. He nods slightly before walking off in the direction Dean went in.
Lather that night finds Liza and Archer waiting in the motel room while the Winchester went on a dinner run. Liza sits with her bare feet propped up on the table and her phone pressed to her ear. "So, it was her appendix all this time," she checks, brushing some hair out of her eyes.
"Yeah, the Mayson family curse strikes again," Tanya says with a relieved laugh. "I'm just glad our baby isn't in pain anymore. Hell, with these meds she's on she doesn't feel anything. You could drop a house on her and she'd giggle and ask for ice cream." Liza laughs along with her, resting her head on the back of the chair. "Speaking of asking, our Lillybug is sitting here with me and is demanding that you sing her song before she passes out again."
"Put her on." There's muffled noise on the other end before her niece answers, her words slurred and almost incomprehensible. "Hey, baby girl, how are you feeling?"
"Awesome," she giggles, and Liza can picture her sitting in Tanya's lap with her eyes wide and glassy. "I feel like I'm on a cloud! Now…." Lilly yawns loudly, smacking her lips afterwards. "Now you sing me my songy."
"Yes ma'am." Liza waits until she can her the three year old stop wiggling before starting the song. She keeps her voice soft, barely more than a whisper as she sings, only stopping when she can hear her niece's quiet snores. "Goodnight, my sweet Lillybug." She ends the call and tosses the phone down onto the table with a sigh.
"Was that my daughter," Archer asks, sitting in the unoccupied chair with a bottle of beer.
"Nope, that was the little girl you left in your dust." She straightens up and pulls Sam's laptop closer to her, scrolling through the websites that hold nothing of interest until the computer is pushed away and Archer takes its place on the table. She lets out an annoyed breath, leaning back in her chair and scrubbing her hands over her face.
"If I didn't give a shit about her, then why I would send her a hundred dollars every month."
"The last check you sent her was when she turned two."
"So?"
"She turns four in three months, you ass!"
"Whatever, my point is that I may not care as much as I should, but I do have a smidge of care for the kid. How could I not? I mean, I helped to make her."
"All you did was put your dick in my sister without a condom. As far as I'm concerned, your right to know anything about that kid became null and void the day you signed over your rights."
"I have every right!" He's almost shouting at this point, always so quick to anger. "She's my daughter and I can talk about her to whoever I damn well please." Liza stands so fast that her chair topples over, Archer meeting her as the two of them stand nose to nose. "You don't get to decide if I can talk about Lilly."
"When was the last time you even thought about her, Archer? The last time you laid in your bed and wondered if she was healthy or if she'd learned how to spell her name yet? That baby is one of the few good things that I've got and I'm not gonna let you screw her up more than you already have."
Arches shoves Liza away from him with a growl, not entirely prepared when she swung at him and letting out a muffled grunt when her fist connects with his mouth. He tackles her once the shock wears off, both of them tumbling to the ground and narrowly missing the overturned chair as they roll. Archer manages to get on top, straddling her back and pressing her face into the carpet.
That's the moment Dean and Sam decide to show back up, Dean saying something about there being a difference between pie and cake. He stops mid-sentence, Liza dimly aware of the bags hitting the floor and then rapid footsteps before Archer is yanked off of her and Sam's pulling her up. He holds her tightly while Dean throws Archer out of the motel room, slamming the door after him.
"Are you okay, Liza," Dean asks, cupping her face and looking for anything worse than her sore shoulder while Sam leaves to deal with the creep. "What the hell happened?"
"It was just an argument that turned physical, that's all," Liza shrugs. "I could've taken him." He lets out a low laugh, settling them both down on their bed with her snuggled against his side.
"Next time I'll just stand by and watch you kick his ass, honey."