Elizabeth's heartbeat quickens when she hears the heavy footfalls coming closer and closer to her hiding spot, a happy whistling belonging to him keeping her on edge. "You can't hide from me forever, darlin'." She winces, taking a step back only to find that the closet she'd been hiding in is now a forest. A twig snaps loudly under her shoe, her eyes going wide as it echoes.

"No," she gasps, a strangled noise of distress caught in her throat.

"Peek-a-boo, I found you!" Elizabeth trips over her own feet as she tries to get away from him, falling to the ground hard enough to knock the air out of her. He comes over to her at a languid pace, turning her onto her belly and straddling her waist.

"N-no," she stutters, barely more than a whisper. "You're dead, I killed you."

"You should know that a little stab wound isn't going to stop someone like me." He gives her a mocking grin, one hand holding her down with a hand between her shoulder blades while the other loops a belt around her throat. Fear coils in her belly and she can feel bile rising as he leans down to whisper in her ear….

"Liza!" She jerks awake at the shout, breathing quickly and half-expecting to find Clarke still on top of her. "You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost." She gives Dean a tight smile, sitting up and kicking the throw blanket into the floorboard. Elizabeth can handle ghosts without a problem, but nightmares are a different matter entirely.

"I'd prefer a ghost right about now, actually," she murmurs, hand shaking as she rakes her fingers through her hair. She winces at a harsh reminder of the hairspray holding in the loose waves, the tug unpleasant as she tries to extricate her ring. Understanding dawns on him, but Dean chooses not to say anything and gets out to follow Sam.

"You just get your bearings, alright? We can handle talkin' to this guy."

She takes a moment to calm herself, cutting off the impending panic attack as she pushes all memories of Clarke out of her mind. It's been three weeks and the bastard is still messing with me. Once she's sure she won't make a scene, she gets out of the car and jogs over to where the boys are talking with an employee from the Oklahoma Gas and Power Company. I wonder if they're better than OG&E or not.

"Do you think it could be this whole Mad Cow thing?" The man they're talking to is of average height with dark hair and a beard. He's got a receding hairline, so his hair is brushed back and stops at his shoulders. Not very professional, but stuff like that isn't enforced too regularly in small towns.

"I don't know," the man shrugs. "That's what the doctors are saying."

"D-did Uncle Dusty act weird before that, though," Zane asks, his blue eyes filling with fake tears. He's the real actor in this group of misfits, having been involved in theater and drama schools since he was old enough to remember lines. Upon noticing Elizabeth, Zane pulls her into a tight hug and lets his tears fall. "Don't worry, Angelica, Uncle D's in a better place now." She hugs him back awkwardly, keeping her back turned to the power guy so that he can see Zane's performance better.

"If it wasn't some disease, what the hell was it?"

"That's a good question," Dean agrees, his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets.

"Could you tell us where this happened," Sam asks. "Angelica, while we get the directions, why don't you take our poor cousin to his car?" She nods, supporting Zane until the power guy's attention is elsewhere and then pushing him playfully away from her.

"Am I good," Zane asks, the tears stopped," or am I good?" He grins, wiping the tears off his face with his coat sleeve. "God, my dear old daddy would be so proud of me." Elizabeth snorts at that, shaking her head with a shit-eating grin.

"You're good enough to have a middle-aged guy who probably watches too much TV fooled," she admits with a laugh, walking over to Zane's Ferrari and climbing in on the passenger's side. He'd have a shit fit if anyone even thought about driving his baby, worse than Dean on some levels and everyone knows how protective of the Impala Dean is. "So, how long have you been in town?"

"A few weeks. I was actually thinking of buying the house Dustin died in front of, but death kind of makes houses depressing."

"You poor thing. However will you recover?" He shrugs, fastening his seat belt and starting the car.

"What do you think, a house out in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors until all the other houses are finished and a huge Jacuzzi tub that has our names etched into the marble? It'd be practically begging us to use it for our own devious needs." Elizabeth arches a brow at his theatrics, buckling her seatbelt.

"Wouldn't your latest partner be upset about you cheating on them?"

"Well, that depends on the partner, I guess." He taps the steering wheel as he thinks over the question. "I have a girlfriend in Louisiana that loves to share, but the boyfriend I got back in Texas would castrate me if he finds out about you and would outright kill me if he finds out about the one in Louisiana."

"Why can't you just be normal and have one partner like everybody else? Or, if you don't like that sort of thing, find someone who's up for being in an open relationship."

"Where's the fun in that? You didn't seem to mind when I was dating you and that crazy chick in Nashville."

"That's because I knew the crazy Nashville lady was about to dump your ass and buy ten parrots." He gives her a blithe smile, as if having a crazy bird lady for an ex isn't weird in the slightest. "However I've learned my lesson, there's no such thing as dating with you. The only thing that comes out of it is decent sex and homemade pizza that is, to be perfectly honest, better than the sex."

"How do you think I lure women into my web of seduction? The pizza is enough to give you an orgasm in itself." Their conversation is interrupted by Sam leaning in Elizabeth's window. "What's up, Sammy?"

"One," Sam says, pointing a finger in Zane's direction," don't call me Sammy, only Elizabeth is allowed and that's because there are worse names out there that she'll call me. Two, Dean's in a pissy mood, so y'all might want to keep the sex-speak down to a low whisper when you're around him. And three, follow us to the place so Dean can feel useful."

"You got it, Sam."

The house they end up parking in front of is still in the process of being built, some police tape wrapped around a tree and a couple of metal rods in the front yard to mark off where Dustin was found in a hole large enough to fit a fully grown man and not much else. Workers continue with their jobs, sending the hunters an occasional glance, but not stopping to question them.

"So, what do you think," Dean asks, peering down at the hole.

"If we believe what that Travis guy said, then it happened way too fast for it to be something natural," Sam answers. The four of them duck under the yellow tape, careful not to fall in just in case some dirt-dwelling monster wants another bite.

"Maybe Oogie-Boogie thought Dustin was Santa Claus," Elizabeth suggests, kicking a small clump of dirt and grass into the hole. "Or maybe some sort of creepy critter got the munchies." Dean arches his brows, one hand fisted in the back of her jacket as she leans over to examine the hole better.

"Except there wasn't an entry wound and Oogie-Boogie was defeated at the end of the movie. Whatever killed him was inside his skull." Ouch.

"Any chance a few cursed scarab beetles are waiting down there?"

"This is why I hate watching The Mummy with you, Liza. You quote it way too much afterwards and you have nightmares about those stupid bugs." Dean shines a flashlight down into the darkness, all of them taking in the churned earth and twining roots from a nearby tree. He grimaces when the light catches on a small puddle of drying mud, stepping back under the tape to put some distance between him and the man-eating hole.

"Someone's gotta go down there," he states as the others follow him. "I say we flip a coin and do best two outta three."

"You're gonna send one of us down into a hole when we don't know what could happen," Zane asks for confirmation. "Are you some new kind of stupid that I'm just now discovering?" He turns his disbelieving gaze on Elizabeth, holding his arms out in a what the hell gesture.

"Don't worry, Daniels, you can stay up here and keep watch if you're afraid of getting your shoes dirty." Dean gives Zane a cheeky smile, picking up a coiled watering hose and walking back over to them.

"Sorry if I don't want my brain to be served up for supper—"

"Heads," Elizabeth calls out to shut them up. Dean chuckles, digging a quarter out of his pocket and flipping it up in the air only for it to be snatched by Sam. "Oh, hey, that doesn't count!"

"Shut it," Sam says gruffly. "I'm going down and if ancient beetles devour my brain, you assholes better not make any references at my funeral." He struggles with the hose for a moment, unable to get it tight enough around his waist for his own comfort. "Liza, make yourself useful and help me with this."

"What's the magic word?"

"I've got a pair of clippers in my bag and the iron will to keep you bald for a month."

"Actually, it's please, but I'll help since you asked so nicely." She winks, taking the hose from him and tying a knot she'd learned in Girl Scouts. If nothing else, having her godfather-turned-adopted-uncle being her scout leader meant she had enough survival skills to survive like a cockroach if she needs to. "Alright, handsome, you're good." Zane and Dean take over from there, holding the slack as Sam slowly lowers himself into the hole.

"Shine some extra light down here, Liza." She pulls out her keys, giving Zane a smug look as she turns on the little flashlight attached to the keyring. He'd made fun of it for the longest time, but he doesn't seem to have a judging comment ready for it now that it's working in their favor.

"Anything interesting?"

"Not that I can see so far." They lower him a little farther until Sam holds up a hand to signal them to stop. "Drop the light down." She lets her keys fall into Sam's hands, watching intently as he kneels in the dirt to look around the narrow hole, the light blocked out sometimes because of his bulk. "All right, lift me back up. I think I got us something to look at."

Zane parks behind the Impala, the house they stop in front of having a sign in the front yard that tells Elizabeth all she needs to know about why Dean wants to stop. "Leave it to Dean to find free barbecue in the middle of a housing development that's still being worked on," she snorts, getting out of the car and walking over to the guys.

"Growing up in a place like this would freak me out," Dean is saying as she joins them.

"Why," Sam asks.

"Too repetitive. I mean, how are you supposed to have any fun in suburbia?" It always feels like a blow to the stomach when she remembers that the bows were never allowed a real childhood or a stable home. While Elizabeth had Bobby and a real house, the boys had an absentee drunk and random motel rooms. She shakes her head sadly, waiting for Zane to catch up before continuing to the cookie-cutter house where the barbecue is being held.

"You feelin' okay," Zane asks, looping his arm through hers while they walk. "You're looking a little washed out today."

"It's the weather," she answers. "Rain always messes with me." Well, it isn't a complete lie, the threat of storms does put her on edge. She remembers days when the thunder was rumbling overhead, driving her to the couch and her uncle's safe embrace until the storm had passed. "C'mon, Dean's already knocking." They make it to the front door right in time for it to swing open, revealing a middle-aged man with short graying hair and a practiced smile.

"Welcome to the neighborhood," he greets. Closer to fifty than thirty, Elizabeth notes as she looks him over. Do all real estate people look this fake?

"Is this the barbecue," Dean asks.

"That's right." He chances a glance up at the overcast sky before focusing gray eyes back on the group. "I'll admit that the weather looks like it might take a turn for the worst, but the show must go on." He shrugs before holding out a hand for the guys to shake. "I'm Larry Pike, the developer here. And you are?"

"Dean. This is Sam."

"Sam, Dean, good to meet you. So, you two are interested in Oasis Plains?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let me just say that we accept homeowners of race, religion, color, or… Sexual orientation." Elizabeth can't hold back her laugh at that, having to lean on Zane in order to stay standing. The fact that the guy's first thought is that Dean and Sam are a couple is the best thing to happen in a while. "Ah, Mister Daniels, good to see you again. This must be the girlfriend you told me about."

"Larry," Zane grins, shaking the other man's hand. Dean sends the blonde a look of offense before tugging her up to stand next to him, an arm wrapped loosely around her hips.

"Sam is my brother," he clears up. "This is Elizabeth, my girlfriend. Daniels told us how great this place is going to be, and Liza just wouldn't stop dropping hints about wanting a place to settle down in away from Chandler. I figured I might as well choose a place where the woods were close by, so I could get some huntin' in." Larry nods, looking unconvinced but stepping aside to let them in all the same.

"Well, come on in. The party's in the backyard." He leads the way through a nice two-story, a sliding glass door in the kitchen letting out into a backyard that might have been used in a shoot for the Sears Catalogue back in the day. It's fairly crowded with prospective homeowners, but there's no obscuring the carefully manicured lawn or the well-placed potted plants and tables.

While most of the crowd are dressed fairly nicely, there are still a smattering of people that are dressed nearly identically to Larry; nice blazers and khakis for the men and tailored blouses and tasteful skirts for the women. All the beige and dark blue would make for a boring uniform, but it's probably meant to make clients feel classier.

"Did I hear you right earlier when you said you were the developer," Sam asks as they walk.

"That's right, young man," Larry nods, slipping into storytelling mode. "It's strange to think that none of these houses were here eighteen months ago. Just a lot of scrub brush and squirrels that looked like they would do anything for some fresh food. Now it's so nice that I've bought this very house. Mine is the first family to live in Oasis Plains." He leads the way to a blonde woman dressed in light pink. "This is my wife, Joanie."

"Nice to see you again," Zane smirks, making the woman blush a pretty pink. Elizabeth elbows him sharply in the ribs without dropping her polite smile, shaking the woman's proffered hand. Zane lets out a small whine, clutching his side with none of his usual grace.

"This is Sam, Dean, and Elizabeth. Of course, you and Zane already know each other." Other handshakes are exchanged, the blonde giving them all the same forced smile as her husband. She's obviously used to playing the doting housewife role, which is something Elizabeth hopes she'll never have to learn. "Tell them how much you love the place, honey. Lie if you have to because I need to sell some houses."

"Of course," Joanie says with an indulgent smile. She must be used to his bad jokes by now, and Elizabeth wonders if her parents had that kind of relationship. Would her mother have laughed at any dad jokes that Christopher made?

"Boys, Elizabeth, if you'll excuse me." He takes his leave, moving to rub elbows with the other guests.

"Don't let his salesman routine scare you, this really is a great place to live." As if summoned by talk of realty, a uniformed brunette steps into place next to Joanie with a grin more suited to winning the lottery.

"Hi, I'm Lynda Bloom," she introduces herself. "I'm the head of sales for the Oasis Plains team." She's pretty and she knows it, wearing her looks like armor against the rising tide of guests.

"Lynda was second to move in. She's a very noisy neighbor, though." Joanie walks off, probably to get a drink. There's some tension there, leaning more towards possible cat fight rather than spur of the moment groping. Lynda gives a nervous laugh as she looks after the other woman and then back to the hunters.

"She's kidding, of course. Zane, is this your girlfriend?" Zane gives her a shit-eating grin, wrapping an arm around Elizabeth's waist and pulling her against his side. Lynda takes that as a yes and moves her gaze to Sam and Dean, the older Winchester giving Zane a glare. "I take it you two are interested in becoming homeowners."

"Well," Dean shrugs, looking at his brother nervously. They can all see where this might be headed and the fact that it goes straight there makes it even harder to hold in a snort.

"Well, let me just say that we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color, or…. Sexual orientation." Elizabeth bites her bottom lip, hiding her face in Zane's chest as she tries to keep it together. Dean's response just makes it even harder.

"Hmm, right. I'm gonna go talk to Larry. Okay, honey?" He smacks Sam's butt as he goes, the latter looking like he might kill his brother when he gets the chance. Zane wisely guides Elizabeth to a quieter part of the backyard so that they can laugh without getting too many weird what drugs are you on expressions.

"That's been the highlight of my week," she giggles, clutching her middle.

"Oh, mine too," Zane agrees, leaning against the privacy fence with a sigh. "Is that the first time that's happened to them?"

"Yeah, as far as I know." He laughs again, gasping for breath once he finishes. "So, which girlfriend did you tell them about anyway? Obviously you talked about her a lot since they all seemed to know about her."

"Eh, I don't remember." He looks around them at all the people, eyes narrowed and head tilted to the side. "Do you think we'd be like them if we weren't raised the way we were?" Elizabeth shrugs, observing the happy couples with a bit of jealousy. What would it be like to live some happy apple pie life instead of worrying about the monster under the bed? "Come on, the Hardy Boys are back together." She rolls her eyes, walking over to the guys to see if Dean had found out anything while talking to Larry.

"Looks like Zane isn't a complete moron," Dean informs them. "Dustin Burwash wasn't the first strange death around here."

"I'll take a written apology, no less than three pages, single-spaced." Elizabeth elbows him again, nodding at Dean to continue talking.

"About a year ago, before they broke ground, one of Larry's surveyors dropped dead while on the job. Get this: severe allergic reaction to bee stings."

"As in Rose Red level of bad reaction?"

"Yes, Daniels." Elizabeth opens her mouth, but Dean quickly presses a hand over her mouth to cut her off. "And no, Liza, we're not watching that movie tonight. I never want to watch it again, in fact. You've ruined it for me." He shakes his head and lowers his hand back to his side, looking ready to head off any other conversation that would lead back to the best Stephen King movie in Elizabeth's opinion. "So, bees and beetles are killers in this place."

"More bugs," Sam says. Elizabeth scrunches up her nose in disgust, looking around for any sign that a killer bug will jump out and gank her. Why did this have to be a creepy crawly case?

Later that night finds them all occupying Zane's house, deciding to just bunk there until the case is wrapped up so they don't have to worry about wasting gas driving back into town for a motel. Murder site or not, it's a nice place with two stories and stainless steel appliances; there are three bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs, two bathrooms, and a beautiful hardwood floor that shines dully under the valance light strips. Lucky for all of them, Zane has already began moving his stuff in, which means the internet connection is established.

Elizabeth finds a cozy spot in the living room, making herself a little pallet to sleep on for the night since there's only one bed in the house. She lays with her book propped up on her knees, glasses replacing her contacts for the rest of the night and the hairspray finally washed down the drain thanks to the kitchen sink.

"Does everybody die in these books," Sam asks from his spot across from her. The second Game of Thrones book is closed beside him, the pathetic expression he sports one you only see in cases of trauma by paperback.

"No one is safe in that series," she shrugs, shutting her own copy and setting it aside as Zane emerges from the bathroom. His dark hair is damp and sticks to his head, a fluffy white towel around his neck and a pair of sweats hanging low on his hips. "You look satisfied."

"That shower is worth every penny. I think I'll have one installed in my Connecticut house too," he smiles, sitting on the floor beside her. "You should try it, babe, you'll feel like God was giving you the best massage of your life."

"Congratulations, Zane, you now have two things that are better than sex."