Elizabeth settles on a ring toss booth, grinning at random kids, flirting with a few parents, and getting the number of an aunt who's had a little too much crown in her coke. She's not complaining, mind you. She'll have sex with pretty much anyone as long as it's consensual. Being stuck in a booth, however, doesn't really let her scan random shit with the homemade EMF in her purse.
"So," starts the man working alongside her," did you grow up around here?"
"South Dakota," she murmurs, staring down at the EMF. No readings so far, the wooden rings with their chipped paint are safe. "Do we get smoke breaks?"
"Uh, yeah. Go ahead." She nods once, a little sharp, and strides out of the booth. She's never liked staying in confined spaces for longer than it takes to sleep; she prefers feeling warm sunlight on her face, the scent of pine trees. To be fair, though, sunlight still stings like a bitch. Fucking Luther and his shitty genes.
Elizabeth moves slowly through the crowd, a cigarette behind her ear and the EMF detector in her hand. She tries to be subtle, keeps it low at her side while also pointing it at random bits and pieces. So far the only things giving off a signal are the flashing lights and rides, things that naturally give off EMF anyway.
Skeleton in the fun house. Elizabeth stares down at her phone screen, nose scrunched and head tilted to the side. Is Sam serious? A fucking skeleton? No wonder this circus is haunted.
A real one?
Yup. Elizabeth heaves out a sigh and pockets her phone, really wishing she hadn't chosen to give up smoking after the Rose Red debacle. She could use the nicotine right about now. Instead, she touches the cigarette behind her ear and slowly makes her way toward the fun house.
It doesn't take too long, the circus ain't exactly Barnum and Bailey, but the walk does nothing to clear her head. In fact, she feels like she's got a sunburn by the time she spots Sam's head towering over the crowd of people, burrowing herself under one of his arms and resting her cheek against his chest.
"You okay," Sam checks. He doesn't remove his arm from around her shoulders, used to the random bouts of affection. "No one messed with you, did they? Cause I'll kick their asses."
"You're sweet, Sammy. No one messed with me except an aunt that I wouldn't mind messing with. She had these pouty lips and cherry lip gloss." Elizabeth moans a little, grinning up at the uncomfortable expression on Sam's face. "I'm kidding, dude. The sun and I just don't get along."
"It's been worse since Luther."
"Yeah…." She presses her face against his chest again, like she can bury herself inside his ribcage and be safe from all the trauma. She's just so damn sick of the never-ending tomfuckery that's been going on lately. They can't catch a break.
"Have you talked to Bobby about it?"
"Of course I have. That's the first thing I did once I woke up in the hospital." Bobby had been passed out in a chair beside her bed, a half-finished Coke on the table and a Tori Spelling flick on the shitty TV mounted to the wall. "He said he's known all along, but he didn't want to scare me. That's why he was so adamant about me wearing sunscreen even during the winter."
"But why did he make me and Dean wear it?"
"Because he likes to share the misery." Sam laughs and she can feel the rumble of it against her cheek; soft, familiar, and everything needed to calm her racing thoughts. She's about to ask if he's talked to Bobby about his visions, but then Sam's speaking again.
"What took you so long?"
"Long story," Dean grumbles. "If the blind dude asks, we're writing a book about ghosts." Elizabeth pulls away from Sam to arch her brows, amused. "I had to tell the guy something, Liza."
"But a book? Dude, none of us can write worth a damn."
"Then it's a good thing he can only read braille, isn't it?" Dean shakes his head a little, looking ready to keep bitching, but a little girl's excited shout has all three hunters tensing.
"Look, Mom," she giggles. "It's a clown!" The girl might be eight or a little younger and she's pointing at something just out of sight. The three hunters move in unison, inching closer to follow the girl's finger and seeing nothing but the usual visitors—no clowns in silver suits with orange pom-poms.
"What clown," the mother asks.
"He disappeared." The mother guides her daughter back into the crowd, leading her toward the Ferris wheel. Elizabeth, meanwhile, has a sudden urge to call Lilly and make sure she's okay. Her hand goes to the pocket of the bright red circus-issued windbreaker, wrapping her fingers around her phone.
"Well," Sam sighs," we know who's next."
Elizabeth is finally able to ditch her dress after the circus closes for the night, changing into a black hoodie and a pair of hip-huggers that she knows drives Dean wild. She also steals one of Sam's beanies because it's nippy out and her ears are sensitive to the cold. Also, she doesn't have to brush her hair if she's hiding it—sound logic, right?
"I'm just saying," Elizabeth continues," it's romantic as fuck and Melanie is a total badass." Sam rolls his eyes, head flopping back against the seat. They've been having this conversation for an hour now, it hadn't even stopped during their respective showers. Elizabeth is passionate, dammit.
"She's not a badass just because she punched her fiancé's mom."
"The mom was a bitch."
"Oh, yeah, no arguing that. Still doesn't make Melanie a badass for punching her, though." Elizabeth groans, tempted to rip the beanie off and smother Sam with it. "Face it, Liza, you only like the movie because Reese Witherspoon is hot."
"So's her boyfriend and fiancé, that's not the point. Sweet Home Alabama is a damn good movie. If I'm ever proposed to, the person popping the question better include the cute scene from the beginning." Sam pauses, confusion clouding his expression. It makes Elizabeth lose a little more faith in humanity.
"Which scene? The runway scene?"
"Not even slightly, man."
"The lightning scene," Dean says, completely sure of himself. He meets Elizabeth's gaze in the rear-view mirror, a fond smile turning up the corners of his mouth. It softens all those rough-hewn edges that John carved into him. "Why would you wanna marry a guy like me for, anyhow?" Elizabeth grins, leaning over the seat to press a kiss to his cheek.
"So I can kiss you anytime I want."
"Get a room," Sam groans. The younger hunters continue to bicker while Dean falls into a light doze, the pair keeping the volume to the bare minimum. They both know how sleep deprived Dean is, they know you can only run on fumes for so long before you just snap.
They're still having a whispered argument a few hours later when a light comes on in the house across from them. It's a quaint house, one you'd see in the background of some sitcom about families and God. It's been dark for a while now, the occupants sound asleep, but not now. At three o'clock on the dot, the light flickers on, casting a bright square over the dark lawn.
The little girl appears a moment later, dressed in her pajamas and shuffling in the direction of the front door. Elizabeth had been hoping they were wrong, but knew they weren't. The clown is here and ready to tear apart another family.
"Dude," Sam says, nudging Dean awake. "It's here." The front door opens as the hunters get out of the Chevy, but it doesn't matter. They propped the side door open after the family went to sleep so they have an easy entrance. Sam moves inside the house first, hiding in an alcove to grab the kid while Dean and Elizabeth hide in the kitchen.
"Wanna see my mommy and daddy," the girl's asking, all innocence. In her eyes, this clown is just a friend and not a creature hellbent on turning her parents into a feast. Hannibal Lector would be ashamed.
The girl's scream is the cue Dean and Elizabeth need to swing into the hall, emptying a couple rock salt rounds into the monster. The clown topples to the ground, still fully solid and conscious in its dirty, polka-dotted suit. It sits up while the hunters reload, greasepaint smeared and pointed hat askew on its head. The clown gets to its feet with ease, turning invisible and leaping through a frosted glass screen door. The noise brings the parents out of their bedroom, hollering in alarm, ready to fight. The hunters don't give them a chance to hit them, dropping the kid and sprinting back out of the house.
They drive in tense silence for an hour or so, Dean pulling to the side of the road where trees are thickest. It'll be easy to hide the Chevy there, but Elizabeth really regrets not taking the mom mobile instead of her car. She's going to miss the old thing.
"You really think they saw our plates," Sam asks. He's got an arm draped around Elizabeth's shoulders, fingers rubbing slow circles against her arm.
"If it was the other way around and you saw three random people surrounding Lilly in the middle of the night, would you catch the plates," Dean asks.
"I'd shoot 'em." They shoulder their bags and head back to the road, the morning sunlight just as irritating as the afternoon light will be later today. Elizabeth slides her sunglasses on and snuggles closer to Sam, using him to block the worst of the light. "What do we do now?"
"Find out what we're dealing with. That rock salt hit something solid."
"Didn't seem to hurt it either," Elizabeth adds. "It got right up and ran like getting shot point-blank was an everyday occurrence. Shit, I wish I had that kind of endurance."
"Did you find anything in Dad's journal?"
"Nothing," Sam says, shaking his head. "Should I call Bobby?"
"You wanna get that lecture?" He shudders at the idea. When Bobby really gets wound up, he could yell at them for hours without running out of steam. Once he made a lecture last five hours just because Elizabeth and Dana had tried to play softball in the house.
"Maybe I should just call Ellen. She might have a few ideas." Elizabeth shrugs, not too sure about what Ellen might or might not know. The woman is more than capable and she knows quite a bit about the supernatural, but she's got no reason to help with this. "Hey, do y'all think Dad and Ellen were together?"
"Doubt it."
"Why wouldn't he tell us about her then? I bet they were friends with benefits."
"Ew," Elizabeth groans. "I don't need that picture in my head, Sammy. I'm traumatized enough as it is." Sam laughs as she pushes him away from her, grinning down at her. "What did I ever do to you?"
"Plenty." Sam tries Ellen's number and then pockets his phone when she doesn't pick up. "Maybe they had a falling out and that's why we never knew about her."
"He had a falling out with just about everyone," Dean points out. Sam rolls his eyes, glaring over at his brother. "What's with the bitch face, Sammy?"
"I just think you need to talk some more, man. I'm glad we were able to talk the other night, but maybe we could do it during daylight hours instead of midnight." Dean rolls his eyes and looks ready to argue, but Elizabeth starts talking before he gets the chance.
"We don't have to talk about it right now if you don't want to, Dee. We can do it when we get home and have a couple beers or while you work on the Impala so you have more than just your feelings to focus on. It's just not healthy to keep it all bottled up."
"Exactly."
"It's also not healthy to make John out to be a Saint when he wasn't, Sammy." It's his turn to look ready to argue, but, again, Elizabeth beats him to it. "You didn't like the man, but suddenly you have only good things to say about him. Dean idolized the man and he hasn't said anything good. We need to find a middle ground here."
"He was a shit parent, but he taught me decent life skills?"
"That's better."
"He did the bare minimum to keep us alive, but he did love us," Dean adds. His shoulders are a rigid line, hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets. He's uncomfortable when it comes to expressing himself, especially all the repressed anger for John, but at least he's making an effort.
"He loved you boys more than anything." Elizabeth takes a deep breath to fight off her own swelling rage. "He shouldn't have forced y'all into this life and he damn well shouldn't have left Dean with all the responsibilities, but he loved y'all."
"You still wanna punch him, don't you?"
"If the zombie apocalypse happens and he rises from the dead, I'm gonna put a bullet in his knees before I put one in his head."
"I reckon that's fair," Sam says.
"I say we curl up on the couch when we get home, pop in a comfort movie, binge eat junk food, and tell stories. Some of the stories can be happy, some can be sad, we can bitch about the man. We just need to get the worst of the feelings out in the air so we can figure out how to deal with them."
"And then we can get drunk," Dean asks.
"So drunk we have to hold onto the grass to keep from falling off the earth."
"Sounds good," Sam agrees. "In the meantime, I'm gonna try Ellen again and see if she has any idea what we're dealing with." He wanders ahead of them, pressing his cell to his ear. Elizabeth waits until she's sure Sam won't overhear them before she says anything else.
"You wanna say somethin', sweetheart? You look ready to explode over there." Elizabeth tucks her hand in Dean's pocket to pull his hand out, twining their fingers together.
"You know I love you, right," she checks.
"Of course I know that. I love you, too."
"Good, 'cause I'm about to sound like a major bitch." She sucks in a deep, steadying breath. "I hated your dad, Dean. I mean, the man tried to kill me because I'm a Chosen, he neglected you boys to the point of near starvation, he trained y'all to be soldiers in his personal war, and he never once showed any pride in y'all. You don't know how many times I wanted to hunt that man down and beat his ass."
"Do you care that he's dead?"
"I care about how his death is affecting you boys. I want you guys to process this so you can start the healing process, but I also know that this kind of pain doesn't ever really go away. It's like a toothache. I still cry on Lilly's birthday every year because my sister will never know just how great that kid is. I still blame myself for not being there enough for Dana…." Tears sting her eyes and she doesn't try to blink them away.
"You realize Dana's suicide isn't your fault, right? She was depressed as hell, her shitty boyfriend had left her with a newborn, and she didn't know up from down. You did everything that you could have done, Liza."
"I know that, but it won't change the guilt. That's what I'm trying to say here. No matter how much time passes, you're still going to miss the old bastard. It could be twenty years from now and you'll see a man with two boys and you'll remember your dad. I'm just trying to make sure when that does happen, you won't have a total meltdown. I need to make sure it's just like a toothache and not a panic attack."
"Do you really think we'll be alive in twenty years?" Elizabeth sighs and moves closer to him, tugging him to a stop.
"We're gonna live to be those weird old dudes in the creepy house." Dean smiles a little, a fragile thing. "We'll have an army of lawn gnomes and they'll all be named after wrestlers."
"And we'll have a garden full of herbs and plants you can use in those little witchcraft things you think I don't know about." She grins up at him, going up on her toes to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. He turns his head to catch her lips with his, a soft, sweet kiss that drags on forever and not long enough. "I love you so much."
"To the moon and back."
"Ugh, I'm gonna barf," Sam hollers at them. Elizabeth flips him off with another grin.
"Sit on it and rotate, Sammy!"
"Just get over here, Hobbit!" They catch up at their own pace, purposefully dragging their feet just to make Sam do a full body eye roll. "So I finally got through to Ellen and she says it's a Rakshasa."
"Does it also go by Dwayne?" Sam snorts and bumps her with his arm.
"It's a Hindu creature that feeds on human flesh. Apparently they can turn invisible and can't enter a home without being invited."
"Which is why it dressed up like a clown," Dean realizes. "Most kids love clowns and they'd be just delighted to invite one inside to play. Why don't they eat the kids, too?"
"Kids ain't chunky," Elizabeth says with a shudder. She's thinking of Hansel and Gretel again, of the witch's oven and a house made of candy. She should kick Caleb's ass for ever telling her that story.
"What?"
"Don't ask," Sam says, holding up a hand to cut Dean off. "Trust me, you don't wanna know." Dean arches his brows, but Sam doesn't elaborate and Elizabeth is just doing her best to put the image out of her head of an old crone slicing kid!Liza up like roast beef. She doesn't need that shit.
"What else did you find out?"
"Rakshasas live in squalor, they sleep on a bed of dead insects. They have to feed a few times every twenty to thirty years."
"The carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81, and probably a few other circuses before that. Guy sounds like Bob Gray. So, who do we know that was in both shows?"
"You're thinkin' it's Cooper?"
"It would make sense," Elizabeth says. "Pose as Cooper Senior for a few years, go into hibernation, come back as Cooper Junior to feed again. And who knows more about how circuses work than a man who's been running one for a few centuries?"
"Ellen says we need a dagger made of pure brass to kill him. Before we go stabbing the guy, we need to make sure it's him."
"Fine, I'll round up the blade and you two go see if Cooper has bedbugs."
It's dark and Elizabeth's feet are screaming by the time they make it back. Sam and Elizabeth head toward the trailers, not bothering to be stealthy. If anyone asks, they'll swallow the vomit and tell people that they were looking for a place to make out. It's not the first time they've told that lie and it won't be the last.
"Do spiders count as insects," Elizabeth asks. She's leaning against Cooper's trailer while Sam works on the lock. "They don't, right? They're arachnids. There totally shouldn't be any spiders in Cooper's mattress. Or a crockpot with people inside it. Or—"
"Can you save the anxious spiraling for later?"
"That'd probably be smart, huh?" Sam stows the picks away in his pocket and opens the door, letting Elizabeth inside first. The trailer isn't messy like some of the ones she's been in, but it does have a worn out feel to it. She gets the feeling that he can't keep it upgraded on his salary and that he's probably so set in his ways that he doesn't want it upgraded. Still, the dude could use a TV.
"Would the bugs be inside the mattress or under it?"
"Just check both." Sam nods and kneels on the ground, lifting the mattress and then reaching into his pocket for his knife. He's almost got it out when they hear the familiar sound of a shotgun being racked. They turn slowly, Sam still kneeling and Elizabeth standing less than a foot away from him.
"Can I help you kids with something," Cooper asks dryly.
"Boy, this is gonna be awkward to explain."
"Why don't you try?"
"We were gonna have sex in your bed because Sam likes the thrill of getting caught."
"It really gets me going," Sam adds. He's blushing clear up to his hairline as he stands, wrapping an arm around Elizabeth's shoulders. "We'll just go find somewhere else." Cooper glares at them as they leave, slamming the door shut behind them with a disgusted mutter of fucking weirdos. The hunters jump apart once they're back outside, Elizabeth making a disgusted noise of her own.
"I always feel so dirty when we have to do that."
"We seriously need to come up with a different excuse." They're in the middle of brainstorming when Elizabeth literally runs into Dean. Her face hits his chest, then her ass hits the dirt. She wishes she could say it was a graceful fall but she looked more like a slinky going downstairs. "You good?"
"Terrific." She gives a low groan as Dean helps her up, rubbing her butt. "Cooper's not the monster."
"He also thinks Liza and I have a voyeurism kink."
"Yeah, I figured— Wait, what? Why does he think you two—" Dean cuts himself off with an irritated huff. "We'll talk about that later. Right now we gotta find the blind knife-thrower. He's the Rak- the Raka- He's Dwayne. He was also fresh out of bronze knives."
"I think I know where to find some bronze."
"How are we supposed to make a knife out of it," Elizabeth asks.
"Liza, honey, it just has to be sharp." She gives a defeated little sigh, shoulders sagging. "After we kill this thing, you need to take a nap." She nods, letting Sam take her hand and lead her toward the fun house. "There's this organ in here that has genuine brass pipes. I remember thinking how neat it was."
"You're a nerd."
"A nerd that's going to save your ass." The fun house hasn't been shut down fully yet, calliope music still blaring over the speakers and the last traces of fog clinging to their shoes. Her and Sam have just passed through one of the doorways when the pocket door slams shut behind them, blocking Dean out.
"Guys," Dean shouts, banging against the door. It's solid wood like everything else in the fun house, made to last through constant traveling.
"Find the organ!"
"I'll find it, but you idiots better be careful!" Elizabeth scowls at the door, then over at Sam.
"He's such an ass," she grumbles.
"Let's just get this over with," Sam says, tugging her along by her hand. The blacklights turn Elizabeth's hair a pinkish color which would be cool if that's all she had to focus on. In fact, she'd probably like the creepy vibes this place gives off if there wasn't a monster roaming around in here that wants to turn her into a casserole.
Sam leads them confidently through the maze of doors and smoke, dodging a couple of motion-activated animatronics. The calliope music is still playing, but it's growing fainter, replaced by organ music. Elizabeth thinks the song is from Phantom, but she can't be certain.
"There it is," Sam says, darting ahead. He grabs for one of the brass pipes, but the steam coming out of them is the real deal and he snatches his hand back with a hiss. "Fuck, that's hot."
"Here, use this." She hands him the beanie to use as a glove, trying to keep an eye out for the Rakshasa. How is she supposed to know if it's close? She doesn't exactly have a monster detector in her back pocket.
"Hey," Dean says, coming down the opposite hall. "Did y'all find the monster?"
"Yeah, we stuffed 'im in a closet." Dean sends her a nonplussed look, but she shrugs it off. "How the hell are we supposed to find an invisible asshole? At least Claude Rains wore clothes."
"Fuck if I know—" Dean jerks back suddenly, a throwing knife pinning the sleeve of his jacket to the wall. "Found him," he squeaks. "Help!" Another knife flies through the air, cutting Elizabeth's cheek before burying itself in the wall next to Dean's nose.
"Sammy!"
"Got it," Sam yells. He's finally yanked the brass pipe free, the edge jagged and sharp. He moves forward with the pipe held like a bat, squinting in the darkness. "Where is the damn thing?"
"I don't know." Dean grunts, trying to work a knife free while Elizabeth tears another pipe free. She stays near Dean, letting Sam wander a few feet away. There's no point in letting her boyfriend become a pincushion. Dean grunts and reaches for something above his head, then more steam and fog come jetting out of the vent hidden by the organ, filling the hall and alcove. "Do you see it?"
"I'm lookin'," Elizabeth murmurs. She's got her pipe raised, looking for any sign of the monster. She edges closer to Sam, trying to find any break in the smoke.
"Sam, behind you!" Sam jabs his pipe back right as Elizabeth swings her own, Sam's stabbing the thing in the midsection while Elizabeth whacks it over the head. The Rakshasa slowly becomes visible, blood leaking from the pipe in its belly, from the jagged cut at its temple. Its mouth opens to let out a high pitched wail and then it's sinking to the floor, swallowed up by fog.
"Is it dead?"
"Hang on." There's a clanking sound and then the fog starts to dissipate, Dean coming to stand beside them. All that's left where the Rakshasa had been is a pile of clothes and the bloody pipe. "I hate fun houses."
After checking in at the Roadhouse and a truly spectacular lecture from Bobby, the three kids curl up on the beat-up couch in the living room. Bobby's out back grilling hamburgers, giving them time to chill out before supper. He figures they've earned the break considering everything that's happened.
By the time he comes in, he thinks they should be ready for a hot meal and some cold beers. He even thinks they might be in the kitchen getting the table set up, but instead he finds them still on the couch. It's not like the other morning, there's no quiet murmuring or evidence of crying.
The three of them are out cold; the boys leaned against each other with Elizabeth sprawled across their laps. This is how it used to be when they were still small and Dana was alive, all of them piled together like puppies. He sets the platter of hamburgers aside, turns off Sweet Home Alabama, and goes into the kitchen. He's not going to mention the scene and if anyone asks, he'll deny it, but his old heart melts just the slightest bit.
He might not have had any kids of his own, but he reckons he's got three pretty good ones in his living room.
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it/this brokenness inside me might start healing/Out here it's like I'm someone else/I thought that maybe I could find myself/if I could just come in I swear I'll leave./Won't take nothing but a memory/from the house that built me
