After realizing they can't switch roommates, Dean caves and decides that a motel room means no purple sophomores to worry about. Elizabeth had been planning to get a room the entire time, but it's nice to have Dean come around to her way of thinking for once. The room they end up getting stuck with isn't too bad, the same scratchy blankets and faulty air conditioner as most places.

"We should only be gone a couple hours at the most," Dean says as Sam disappears into the bathroom. "You just sleep off those pills I saw you take earlier." She can feel a blush warming her cheeks, one hand going to the bottle in the side pocket of her bag.

"Uh, thanks," she mumbles, managing a smile. She's tired and feels ready to drop, and only part of that comes from her monthly visitor.

"You wanna tell me what's wrong or do I have to guess?" To his credit, he keeps his voice low so that Sam doesn't overhear him, but it still isn't something Elizabeth feels like talking about. Yeah, having a period is nothing to be ashamed of by any means, but it also isn't something to bring up in casual conversation. "You've been grumpy the last two days and when you weren't bitching, you looked like you were in some serious…. Pain." It dawns on him then and she's sure he feels like the dumbest man alive. "Oh God, it's that time, isn't it?" She gives a curt nod, watching with some amusement as the tips of his ears turn bright red.

"I'm just gonna lie down and pretend we never had this conversation."

"Right, good plan. Sammy and I will fill you in on everything when we get back. Hopefully we'll have something more useful than 'the invisible man did it'." Still smiling a little, she curls up in the bed she and Dean are sharing, bag clutched against her chest like a stuffed animal. Sam walks out of the bathroom, dressed and still trying to dry his hair. He takes one look at Elizabeth's position and nods slowly.

"Lady thing, huh," he asks, no trace of embarrassment. "Make sure you drink lots of water while we're gone." Elizabeth nods, waiting until the door is shut behind them and she can hear the Impala starting before she turns on the TV. She can't sleep through dead silence, so the background noise of daytime television will work nicely. Maybe I'll catch the end of The Young and the Restless if I'm really lucky.

Two Hours Later

Being guided from a lumpy mattress to the backseat of the Impala isn't the best decision Elizabeth's ever made in her life, but at least her pain meds aren't completely out of her system yet. She sleeps through the entire drive to the town's library, curled up in a ball with a heavy blanket and Dean's jacket thrown over her to keep her shivering to a minimum. She doesn't wake up completely until she feels warm air wafting over her face, carrying the smell of mint with it. It isn't too bad, she's definitely smelt worse things in her time.

"What," she grumbles, eyes still closed and head half-buried under supple leather. It smells like Dean's cologne and she could breathe in that smell for the rest of her life.

"We're at the library," Dean says, hand warm against her cheek. She leans into his touch, letting out a contented sound. "C'mon, Cinderella, I can't leave you out here by yourself." Elizabeth groans and sits up reluctantly, looking around through bleary eyes. They are indeed parked outside the library, dark bricks barely held together by the crumbling mortar.

"It looks like it might topple over. Are we sure we wanna go in there?"

"We're sure." She allows Dean to help her out, attempting to hand his coat back only to have him wrap it more firmly around her shoulders. "Keep it for now." She presses a kiss to his cheek to show her appreciation, the pair following Sam inside. Her head still feels like it's full of cotton, but thinking is easier than it had been a moment ago and things are slowly getting clearer.

"Why are we here again?"

"Because we need to research Nine Mile Road," Sam answers, looking around at the different plaques on the shelves to find the one they're looking for. "Lori said the killer was invisible, so I figure it's probably a spirit that hasn't crossed over."

"So you believe her," Dean asks.

"Yeah, I do."

"Don't worry, I think she's hot, too." Elizabeth gives him an unimpressed look, shaking her head. "What? You would've thought so, too."

"I doubt it," Elizabeth mumbles," quiet little church mice aren't my thing. I prefer the bold ones that can pull off tight jeans."

"Would you two knock it off," Sam grimaces. "There are some things I just don't need to hear."

"Sorry, Sammy." He shoots her a look over his shoulder, fighting back a smile as she moves to walk next to him. "What else do we have to go off of?"

"Well, she heard scratching on the roof and found the body suspended upside down over the car by his ankles." They come to a stop halfway down one of the aisles, Elizabeth and Dean sharing a look before glancing up at Sam. The only thing missing is for someone to find a shiny hook hanging from the driver's side door handle.

"Are we thinkin' Hook Man? As in the Hook Man?"

"Every legend has at least a little bit of truth in it."

"Yeah, but why didn't they find the hook dangling from the door handle?"

"Or the tire punctures and phantom scratches," Dean adds.

"Maybe the Hook Man isn't a man at all," Sam points out. "What if it's some type of spirit?" Elizabeth sighs and allows her head to drop against Sam's arm, wondering when her life had gotten so weird that Hook Man is a possible answer in a case. It's right up there on the relatively small list of things they'd ruled out a long time ago, the only thing above it is vampires. "How should we start researching?"

"I guess we look for any crimes that match this one. Arrest records, newspaper clips, the whole nine. I'll go to the circulation desk and ask for some help and you two go find a table before Liza passes out."

"'M not that sleepy," she says, voice muffled by Sam's jacket sleeve. Her eyes are closed and she can feel herself swaying, but the important thing is that she's still conscious. Probably not for much longer, but whatever. She probably shouldn't have taken that Norco an hour ago. "Go get the stuff, Dean."

"Do me a favor and don't let her take any more pain pills. We all know how useless she is when she's high." Sam takes her arm and leads her through the crowded library, not letting her go until he finds a table near the back where there aren't too many students. She drops into a chair, looking around dazedly for anything familiar.

"Sam?"

"Right here, Liza," he says, a hand on her shoulder.

"Do you see the panda over there?" A heavy sigh is the only response she gets, gaze stuck on the little black and white bear as it rolls around on the floor. "Yeah, I didn't think so. It's cute, though." She giggles a little, swaying in her seat as she watches the bear play. "Maybe I shouldn't have taken so much medicine."

"Or, you know, you could've drank some water like I told you to." Elizabeth rolls her eyes, leaning back in the chair and attempting to force her brain to work. Normally the pills don't hit her this hard, but she'll be damned if she admits Sam is right. She looks up from the polished surface of the table when Dean plops down in a seat next to her, a little paper cup in his hand.

"Drink," he commands, leveling a stern look in her direction. She does as she's told, too tired to really put up any sort of fuss. The water helps a little, clearing her mind enough that the hallucination disappears and Dean's face comes into sharp focus. "No more pills today, alright? I need you focused." Elizabeth has a retort for Dean on the tip of her tongue, but she holds it back when she notices a middle-aged woman heading their way.

"Here you go," a librarian says, placing a box on the table. "These are all our arrest records going back to 1851." She places a second box in front of Elizabeth as Dean blows some dust off the first one. They wait until the woman leaves before talking again, Elizabeth flipping one box open to see the thick files inside.

"You willingly spent four years of your life doin' shit like this?"

"Welcome to higher education," Sam remarks.

Elizabeth gives a tired moan as she rubs at her eyes, wishing she had just slept through Dean's call after services let out. Three hours of research is most definitely not what the doctor ordered.

"Hey, check this out," Sam says, gaining the other two's attention. Dean helps Elizabeth up from her spot on the floor and they make their way behind a bookshelf where Sam is leaning. "1862, a preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. He was so angry over the red-light district in town that he killed thirteen prostitutes. It says that some of the deceased were found in their beds, sheets soaked with blood, others suspended from the limbs of trees as warnings against sins of the flesh." Dean pulls another piece of paper out from behind the one that Sam is reading, Elizabeth able to make out an illustration of a man with a hook hand.

"And as if they needed any more proof he was their guy, he used a silver hook to do it. The very same one that replaced his friggin' hand after an accident." Elizabeth skims the accident report, a name standing out to her that makes her wish she'd never made that bet with Dean yesterday.

"Wasn't our guy's murder out on Nine Mile Road," she asks, dreading the answer. Sam nods his head and looks at the paper she's tapping with one carefully manicured nail. "Well, that's where these murders took place."

"Nice job, Dr. Spengler," Dean congratulates. "Let's go check it out tonight when it's nice and spooky out."

"I'm obviously Venkman, you ass."