The Shoemaker house looks like something out a magazine, full of people milling about that are waiting to give the remaining family members their condolences. "I feel like we're underdressed," Dean mumbles, taking in the formal wear the old folks in the room off to the left are wearing.
"Speak for yourself," Elizabeth says with a smug look. Sometimes liking girly clothes comes in handy; even if the ones she has on aren't exactly proper for a funeral, they're good enough to keep from getting snotty looks.
"You're wearing a freakin' skirt with watermelons on it." She shrugs, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket. She and Sam follow Dean down a short hallway into the kitchen, the counter covered in casseroles and other foods that can be reheated over the next week or so. It's the same at every funeral reception—mourners, gossip whores, at least ten casseroles, and a whole lot of black clothing that went out of style in the sixties. Dad's was much smaller.
Christopher Mayson had died when Elizabeth was five and she doesn't remember much about him beyond the fact that he had blond hair and was always talking about how he was going to move them all back to Kansas in their old house when he saved up enough money. Instead he died in a Wendigo attack, leaving his best friend to raise his daughters. No matter how protective Bobby was, it didn't stop Elizabeth's older sister from dying barely a year after giving birth to Lilly.
"Excuse me," Dean says to an older man with graying hair, careful to keep his voice quiet," could you point us to Donna and Lily so we can give them our condolences?"
"Of course," the old man nods, gesturing for them to follow him to the backdoor. The backyard is just as packed as the rest of the house, people milling about with plastic cups in hand for when the silences grow awkward. "They're over there." He points towards a group of three girls huddled together on a bench and a fourth in a chair; two pretty blondes with long hair, a brunette with hair that stops at her chin with the ends flaring outwards, and a little girl who shares several features with the older brunette.
"Thanks, man." The three of them make their way towards the girls while the old man wanders off. "You must be Donna." The brunette woman with short hair gives a sad smile and a nod, looking up at them. Dean glances at Sam and Elizabeth, at a loss for words for once in his life. For a guy that spends a lot of time around death, he sure does suck at talking about it.
"Hi," Sam says, focusing his attention on Donna. "We're really sorry for your loss."
"Thank you," Donna says.
"I'm Sam, this is Dean, and that's Elizabeth. We worked with your dad." Where exactly did her dad work before he croaked? That information could come in handy later if someone asks about it. Donna shares a look with the blonde on her right, then turns her gaze back to the trio.
"You did?"
"Yeah," Dean adds," this whole thing with the stroke... I'm sorry we couldn't make it to the funeral."
"Look," the blonde says protectively," she's been going through this type of thing since before the funeral and I doubt she wants to do this right now."
"No," Donna interjects with a hand on her friend's arm," it's fine."
"I'm sorry," Dean says again," we've just— We've been racking our brains to see if there was any sign something was wrong, if we could've helped him, but we can't come up with any of the symptoms of a stroke."
"It wasn't a stroke," the little girl states, turning to face everyone. "It was all my fault."
"No," Donna shakes her head. "Lily, don't say that. It's not true." Dean and Sam look to Elizabeth, quirking up their brows until she sighs and kneels in front of the little girl.
"Hey," she greets as Lily meets her gaze. "My name's Elizabeth." She holds out her hand and lets Lily shake it, then gives it a comforting squeeze. "I have a niece named Lilly and I'd bet you and her would get along really well." Donna and Lily stare at her in sadness and confusion until she starts talking again. "She lives with some foster parents right now, but she calls and talks to me every night to tell me about her day and any problems she has. She says she likes talking to me because I make her feel better."
"Really," Lily asks, unsure.
"Mm-hm, talking about it always makes you feel a little better. I bet if you tell me what you think happened to your daddy, it'll help that nasty feeling in your tummy go away."
"He died because I did something really bad."
"And what was that, sweetie?"
"I said..." She trails off and then whispers the rest. "I said Bloody Mary in the bathroom mirror three times. I summoned her and she got my dad instead of me. It's all my fault that she took his eyes."
"Hey, look at me." Lily's brown eyes lock with Elizabeth's and she gives the kid a comforting smile. "I promise you that Bloody Mary is just a story made up to scare people."
"How do you know?"
"Because I did it when I was about your age and I was scared to look in a mirror for two weeks, and do you know what happened when I finally did?" She shakes her head, eyes wide and her hands clutching at the skirt of her dress. Elizabeth untangles them from the fabric and clasps them gently in her own. "I saw my reflection."
"That's it?"
"Yep, and the scariest part of that was my hair being a tangled mess 'cause I hadn't brushed it in two weeks. I pinky promise that your dad died of a stroke and not because of a silly game, Lily." Elizabeth holds out her pinky, curving it around Lily's when she does the same. "If you ever get scared thinking about her, you just need to remember that she's not real. If that doesn't work then you'll have to run to the kitchen and get a bottle of water."
"What will that do?"
"Pour a tiny bit on your hand and flick it at the mirrors." Lily's brows furrow and she lowers her gaze as she tries to connect the dots. "Well, you'd leave if someone flicked water in your face, wouldn't you? I bet ol' Mary's the same way."
"Elizabeth's right," Dean adds, helping her back up. "Bloody Mary couldn't have taken your dad's eyes because he's not the one who said it."
"Yeah," Lily nods," I guess you're right about that."
After Elizabeth promises to tell her niece that Lily said hi, the three of them excuse themselves and head for the upstairs bathroom where Steve Shoemaker met his maker. The Bloody Mary tidbit Lily gave up is an interesting start, but how can it even be possible since kids have been screwing around with that legend for centuries? Hell, I said it when I was a kid and the scariest thing to happen was Uncle B finding out.
The upstairs of the house is abandoned, no one roaming the halls and no specters with bloody nails. It definitely makes their job easier, so she's not complaining.
"I'm just saying," Elizabeth continues as the boys go ahead of her," I think Bloody Mary is the world's dumbest legend. Candyman, on the other hand, was scary as hell because he had that deal he did with this hook."
"Do you ever shut up," Dean asks, looking at her over his shoulder with furrowed brows.
"Sometimes when I'm sleeping." The bathroom isn't a large one, the white tiles under her sneakers scrubbed clean just like everywhere else. There isn't even a trace of blood anywhere, nothing except the people gathered downstairs to suggest someone had died. "Back on the subject at hand, why do you think Mary finally decided to make an appearance?"
"Maybe there's something special about this place."
"Like where it began," Sam asks with raised brows. "But why wasn't the kid attacked? The legend, no matter the changes, always states that the person who says the words is the one murdered."
"Have you seen how many mirrors these people have," Elizabeth counters, kicking at Dean when he reaches for the mirror. "I mean, I counted four already and that was in the hall, so maybe..." At Sam's sharp look, Elizabeth hesitates to say Bloody Mary. "...Maybe She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named got confused and found the closest person."
"Never heard of her doing that," Dean remarks," but he did bite it in front of a mirror." They all look to the mirror, the same confused fear flickering in their eyes. "And I've always heard... You-Know-Who scratches people's eyes out."
"Uncle Bobby told me that Mary would have to wait in line because he would be the first to put a boot up my ass." Sam winces, instinctively reaching for his ass at the memory of the spankings John and Bobby gave them. "I think I'd prefer the eye-gouging."
At the sound of footsteps, they all move to the door, hoping to sneak out only to have the blonde from earlier block the way. "What are you doing up here," she demands with raised brows.
"Impromptu threesome." Dean slaps a hand over Elizabeth's mouth and her cheeks heat up in a blush, the words out before she can stop them. Now she's gonna think we're weird.
"Who are you guys?" Not freaks that do it at a funeral. God, brain, why d'you gotta do this to me? Dean and Elizabeth look to Sam, relying on the taller man to think of a response.
"We worked with Mister Shoemaker," Sam says quickly, sending Elizabeth a look that means they need to work on her improvisation skills later.
"He worked from home, so how about you try giving me the truth." The other woman crosses her arms over her chest, settling on the stance all women have when they want answers and they want them now. Who knew it was so effective on other women, too? Elizabeth presses her lips together, not trusting herself right now. "Tell me who you guys are supposed to be and why you were hounding my friend downstairs or I'll scream so loud that your ears start bleeding."
"We don't think it was a stroke that killed Donna's dad."
"Are you guys gonna say you're doctors now?"
"No," Elizabeth states, mimicking her stance," but we do know the signs of a stroke. A little hint for you, they don't include your friggin' eyeballs exploding in your head." Sam elbows Elizabeth hard enough that she stumbles against his brother, thankful that Dean's first instinct is to latch on and keep her from falling. "Rude."
"Shut it," Sam says with a frown before facing the blonde again. "Look, when we figure out what killed Shoemaker, then you'll be the first one we tell. And you want some more of the truth? We don't want this happening again, so we're gonna find out what caused the death and we're gonna stop it."
"So," Dean finishes," scream all you want because this bathroom has a window and I'm not afraid to dive out of it." Wouldn't be the first time since Elizabeth's senior prom.
"Are you guys cops or something," she asks in confusion, the three of them sharing a look at that.
"'Or something' pretty much sums it up." Sam nods when the blonde looks to him and snatches a pen out of Elizabeth's jacket pocket, scribbling something down on the back of a Pizza Hut receipt.
"You or your friends see anything weird that might tie with the murder," Sam tells her, holding out the receipt when he's done and pressing it into her hand," don't be afraid to give us a call."
"Or if you ever get bored and want to go out for coffee sometime." The look Elizabeth gives Dean has him shaking his head, the cocky smile vanishing. "Or not, it's just a suggestion."