Elizabeth pulls her pistol out of the trunk, checking it over to make sure it's still in working order before stuffing a fresh magazine of silver bullets in her back pocket in case she runs out. She and Dean have decided that they need to find out as much as they can about the Shifter no matter what Sam had said. If that means hunting around in the sewers and possibly killing it there, then so be it.

"You ready for this," Dean asks, handing her a small flashlight.

"If I wasn't, then you'd know," she assures him as they start for the nearest manhole cover. She's eager for this nightmare to end once and for all so she can sleep in a real bed. Even better, she wants to take a long shower to get the stench out of her hair before pushing Dean onto the first horizontal surface she finds and working out some stress.

It's easy for them to find the lair again, following the trail of Shifter goo that he had left behind. Dean makes a face as he steps around a small pile of teeth, obviously trying not to compare them to the ones in his mouth. The large room they enter is untouched, weapons and candles still littering the place with a few knickknacks to try and give it a homey feel.

Elizabeth stays near the desk to sort through some of the stuff while Dean paces around the room to look under the tarps that are spread randomly around. She isn't paying much attention to him as she shuffles through some drawings, the deformed person in all the sketches reminding her of the Phantom more than anything else.

"Rebecca?" Dean's words have Elizabeth freezing for a second before she drops the papers and turns to face him. Sure enough, Becky is just a few feet away from her, tied to a chair and half-hidden beneath a grimy tarp. The scared woman's gaze is flicking fearfully between the other two, bound hands held tightly against her chest as she flinches away. "Oh, son of a bitch."

"If you're here," Elizabeth says, pointing at Becky," then who the hell is Sammy going to visit?" The other blonde gives a timid shrug of her shoulders, slowly recognizing the difference between the Dean trying to untie her and the one that had beaten her to within an inch of her life last night.

"What happened to you?" Elizabeth bends down and starts to work on Becky's feet, wincing when she notices the dark bruises and cuts that braceleted the thin ankles. She was really put through the ringer last night and who knows what all's happened since she was dragged down here.

"I was walking down the street when someone hit me over the head," she explains, trying to keep the hysterics at bay. "Everything went white and then I was waking up down here. I saw that thing turn into me. How's that even possible?" Dean helps her to stand up, keeping a hand on her elbow to keep her steady as Elizabeth straightens up.

"I promise you're gonna be okay, but we have to move."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Sam went to see you this morning," Elizabeth tells her, leading the way towards the exit. "He doesn't know he'll be meeting the Mighty Morphin Thingamabob instead." It takes them longer to reach the ladder than it did to reach the lair, Becky unable to move fast after being tied up for several hours. The poor woman probably has a concussion on top of that and she looks about ready to collapse at any moment. "Just a little further, we're almost there." Elizabeth is the first up the ladder, helping Becky out and supporting her over to the car.

"You can lie down, but you shouldn't fall asleep until you get to a hospital. If you have a concussion, then you'll just end up even worse than you are now." Becky nods, leaning heavily against the closed door on the other side of the car after getting in, eyes half-lidded as she stares out the window.

"Keep your pistol ready," Dean advises as he and Elizabeth get in the front seat. "We might not have much time to waste once we get there."

"Don't you worry about me, honey. I've been fighting all my life." The drive to Becky's house is nerve-wracking, seeming to take forever despite the fact that Dean is speeding as much as he can without worry about cops pulling him over. Still, they get there faster than the night before, Dean and Elizabeth getting out the second the ignition is cut.

The front door gives easily under the sole of Dean's boot and they follow the sounds of a struggle into the den. That's where they find the Shifter straddling Sam's stomach with its hands around his throat, squeezing tight enough that Sam's face is turning purple. One of Elizabeth's hands goes to her own throat, running over the dark finger-shaped bruises the Shifter had left behind.

"Hey," Dean shouts to get the creature's attention. It turns to see who's interrupting, standing quickly and backing away when it sees the two hunters with their guns up.

"What, you couldn't get it up for me so you're goin' after Sammy now," Elizabeth mocks, returning her free hand to its spot on the grip. The Walther is steady in her hands, a comforting weight as she keeps it aimed at the Shifter. Dean and Elizabeth squeeze the triggers at the same time, three bullets burying themselves into the thing's heart and the force of them knocking the Shifter backwards onto a small table.

Becky comes in a moment later, running over to help Sam up off the ground despite how badly they're both hurt. She manages to get him sitting up before Elizabeth comes over, first getting Sam over to the couch before coming back to help Becky to sit next to him. She looks them both over, using the ruined material of her shirt to wipe the blood off Sam's face.

"I'll bet you're glad that we never obey your orders now, Sammy."

Elizabeth and Dean stay near the car as the other two come outside, pretending they can't hear what Sam and Becky are saying. After everything that's happened those two deserve a moment of privacy even if it doesn't end with Sam getting laid. After a little while, Becky waves and walks back into the house, leaving Sam to walk over to the Impala.

"What are they saying about your buddy Zach," Dean asks, moving over to the driver's side and opening the door.

"They're blaming it on this Dean Winchester guy," Sam says, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. It isn't quite a smile, but it's close and that has the tightness in Elizabeth's chest easing a little as she opens her own door. "The cops found the murder weapon and Zach's clothes in the guy's little hideout, so they're thinking that tape was tampered with. Becky says Zach should be realized come tomorrow."

"My daddy always said to stay away from guys named Dean," Elizabeth says, smiling. "According to him, they're nothin' but trouble."

"I didn't hear you complaining last night," Dean retorts with a flirty wink. Sam makes a noise of disgust, dropping down into the car while the other two do the same. Teasing is something Sam will have to get used to if he wants to survive the cross-country Find John trip they're all going on.

"My daddy also said complaining was rude." Dean puts a hand over his heart in mock offense, but he's smiling when he meets her gaze in the mirror. "Let's get this show on the road, Winchester. I ain't got all day." The engine roars to life and Dean pulls out onto the road, the only sound for a while being the music playing over the radio.

"I'm sorry," Dean says after three hours of driving, glancing over at Sam. "It might not seem like it, but I really do wish I could've left you out of this and let you be Joe College."

"It's no big deal," Sam shrugs. "Even when I was going to college, I never really fit in. I was still reading newspapers the way Dad taught us, trying to find a hunt even when I knew I'd just stay in and eat cold pizza with Jess or call Tanya so I could listen to Lilly babble about how great Monsters Inc. is."

"Well, that's because you're a weirdo and college can't change that. If it makes you feel any better, I'm a weirdo, too."

"I already knew that."

"Hey, I'm sorry to you too, Liza."

"Don't even start that shit," she says from the backseat. She leans forward to wrap her arms loosely around his neck with her chin on his shoulder, breathing in the smell of leather and cologne. "Like Sam said, fitting in isn't something a hunter can do for long periods of time. My neighbor has this Chihuahua and it likes to yip a lot at night, so for the first month I was there I would wake up around midnight or two O'clock and threaten the mutt with silver bullets."

"I gotta say, though, none of that's weirder than me being able to say that I'm ditching my own funeral."

I said, A-hey, what's your name, baby/Maybe we can see things the same/Now don't you wait or hesitate/Let's move before they raise the parking rate/All right now baby, it's all right now/All right now baby, it's all right now