"You and John Winchester used to own this garage together, right," Dean asks as the hunters follow the middle-aged mechanic through the garage. Elizabeth feels at home among the sounds of cars being worked on with the scent of grease hanging heavy in the air. Bobby's salvage yard has the same sounds and smells half the time and she used to hang out with him as much as possible when she was little.
"Yeah, a long time ago," the man nods, wiping his hands off on an equally dirty rag. "He and his boys disappeared about twenty years ago, so why are the cops suddenly interested?"
"We're reopening some of our unsolved cases and the Winchester disappearance is one of 'em."
"Well, what do you want to know about John?"
"Whatever you can think of," Elizabeth says. "Whatever pops up first in your head."
"Well…. He was a stubborn bastard, I remember that. And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It was that whole Marine thing. But he sure loved Mary, and he doted on those kids. There was a family that lived down the street from him, the Maysons. John spent a lot of time with Christopher and Mary watched their girls from time to time."
"But that was before the fire," Sam checks.
"That's right." The man looks sad now, the mention of the fire putting a taint on his memories.
"Did he ever talk about that night?"
"No, not at first. I think he was in shock."
"Right, but eventually…. What did he say about it?"
"Oh, he wasn't thinking straight. He said, uh— He said something caused that fire and killed Mary."
"Did he ever tell you what killed her," Dean asks, focusing on keeping his voice steady. Sam and Elizabeth share a look, cautious and almost scared of hearing the answer. What if this guy doesn't answer them, just brushes John's convictions off as a grieving man hoping for something he could actually fight instead of bad wiring?
"It was purely accidental. The result of bad wiring and old insulation." Elizabeth heaves out a disappointed sigh, gaze dropping to the stained toes of her shoes. It's always the same rhetoric with these people, always some kind of excuse that can be filed into neat boxes labeled rational thought. "I begged him to get some help, go to therapy so he can get him and those kids back on track, but he just refused. Got ten times worse, more paranoid."
"How do you mean," Archer presses. The mechanic huffs out a sad laugh and scrubs his hands with the rag again, like he can rid himself of the memories if he just rubs hard enough. The grease-stained hands are already turning red. "Did he think someone was after him?"
"More like something. He read these books on the occult, talkin' with Christopher's buddy up in South Dakota. Hell, he even started goin' to see a palm reader in town. I told him he should save his money for something more important than being told he'd meet a handsome stranger in the grocery store."
"Did the psychic have a name?"
"Most people do." The dry sarcasm isn't missed, but it is ignored for the time being. "Look, I got a Toyota to work on that my idiot son decided to go muddin' in and then hit a tree because he couldn't stop in time. I promised to have it fixed up before the end of the week and I'm running a little short of time here."
"Of course, sorry to bother you." The hunters leave the garage with that scrap of a tip and Elizabeth doesn't have much hope in finding the psychic. They all stop by an old phone booth, Sam rifling through the Yellow Pages connected to the booth with sturdy wire, like the City of Lawrence is super worried about phone book thieves. While he does that, Elizabeth shoots off a text to Zane about any contacts he might have in the area, her brows furrowing when she hears the familiar chime behind her.
"I hear-tell you guys are looking for a psychic," calls a familiar voice directly afterwards. Zane is walking towards them with a cocky grin, stuffing his phone in the pocket of his grey overcoat. His entire outfit is slightly different shades of gray, the only spot of color being the bright red tie that brings his entire outfit together.
"That's right," Archer nods, brows twitching in confusion.
"There's only one psychic in Lawrence that's worth seeing, she goes by Missouri Moseley. We have an appointment with her in a few minutes." His gaze zeros in on Archer, eyebrows barely showing over the top of his expensive sunglasses as he raises them. "You know, handsome, I'm currently single."
"Sorry, I mostly go for blondes." The sarcasm in Archer's voice is so thick that it's basically dripping from the words like slime. He's smiling as he holds out his hand for Zane to shake, the other man obliging. "I'm Noah Archer." Just like that, Zane has his sunglasses off and his friendliness has melted away.
Zane turns blue eyes to Elizabeth then cuts them back to him after her confirming nod. He knows who Archer is, heard all the horror stories, and he's always wanted to meet the asshole that could cheat on Dana and dump her after their daughter was born. The curl to his lip makes Zane look like he's just found a cockroach in his dinner.
"Boy, I wouldn't stick my dick in you if it was the only thing that would save the earth from colliding with the sun."
"Suddenly I like you a little more now, Daniels," Dean says, patting Zane's shoulder. "Even though you do have terrible taste in men." Zane's grin is back as he playfully swats Dean's ass.
"Don't look so put out, I'd hit on you if I was certain you were into…. Ah, subtext." He climbs into the Impala with Archer and Sam, leaving Elizabeth to explain Zane's code. Dean glances at her with raised brows, looking offended.
"You can't spell subtext without butt sex," she says, just loud enough for Dean to hear before squeezing into the backseat with Zane and Archer. Zane is sitting in the middle, taking pride in being uncomfortably close to Archer and squishing him against the opposite door. When the boy doesn't like you, you definitely know about it. He's about as subtle as a brick to the face. Elizabeth elbows him despite her amusement. "Give Dean directions and leave Archer alone. He's already had his ego bruised."
"But I'm having so much fun with our good buddy." His happy tone is heavily laced with sarcasm, and the glare he's sending in Archer's direction could be used to start wildfires. Archer attempts to shift further away but only succeeds in smacking his head against the window. "This is better than that time I scammed my way past that Russian security guard and stole a diamond bracelet from the ambassador's wife."
"Thank you for that, by the way. It's still my favorite piece of jewelry."
The waiting room of Missouri's office is smaller than Elizabeth thought it would be, crammed with a small couch and a coffee table that holds magazines for people to flip through when they eventually grow bored enough to actually pick up People instead just glancing at the cover page. Elizabeth sticks with her Kindle instead, ignoring the article Sam's reading about Prince Harry.
"Alright then," comes the sweet-as-honey voice of a woman just before she and a middle-aged, blading man walk out of the back. The woman is portly with short hair and dark skin, beautiful and maternal in all the ways that count. "Don't you worry about a thing," she tells the man. "Your wife is crazy about you."
"That's her," Zane whispers, throwing his magazine back on the table. The woman ushers the man out the front door and closes it behind him, turning to face the group taking up her space. She has a kind face with round and honest eyes that remind Elizabeth of the picture of her mother she has in her wallet. She likes this woman already.
"That poor bastard, his wife is home banging the gardener." Missouri shakes her head a little, disappearing behind a beaded curtain back the way she came. "If people actually came here for the truth, then I'd tell him to find himself a good divorce lawyer." She pokes her head past the curtain and raises an impatient brow. "You comin' or not? I don't have all day."
Zane snorts, getting up and following after her with the rest of the group trickling in behind him. They end up in a slightly larger room, all of them standing in a line as Missouri looks them over with a smile and her hands on her hips. It's a fond expression, one Elizabeth hasn't seen directed her way too often since she learned all her curse words.
"You boys grew up to be handsome just like your daddy," she says, laughing when she points at Dean. "And you used to be one goofy-looking kid, too. I'm glad you grew into your ears." Dean scowls and brings up a hand to touch one of his ears, tugging at the lobe. She turns her attention to Elizabeth next, tucking a loose bit of hair behind Elizabeth's ear. "You're the spitting image of your momma. Alice was always so pretty."
"Um, thanks," she says, cheeks heating up in blush.
"Sam…." Missouri takes a gentle hold of Sam's wrist, looking like someone has just run over her cat directly afterwards. "Oh, honey. I'm sorry about your girlfriend." All but Zane shoot her wide-eyed looks of complete surprise. It's not everyday that you meet an honest to God psychic, but Elizabeth supposes there has to be a few out there that are actually legit. "And your father…. He's missing?"
"How'd you know all that," Sam asks, shaky.
"Well, you were thinking it just now."
"Well, where is he," Dean asks next. "Is he okay?"
"Does Jon Snow die in Game of Thrones," Elizabeth puts in, but Missouri ignores her completely as she focuses on Dean.
"I don't know," she says with a shake of her head.
"Don't know," Dean demands. "You're supposed to be a psychic, right?" Elizabeth gives his shoulder a warning poke, shaking her head sharply when he looks down at her. Is he trying to make this lady hate them? He can write a damn book at this rate—How to Make A Psychic Hate You in Two Sentences or Less. Zane seems to share her thoughts, rolling his eyes and giving Missouri an apologetic look. Missouri doesn't notice, reacting just the way Elizabeth thought she would with a pissed off expression.
"Is that head of yours completely empty? Do you see me pulling the ace of spades out of a deck of cards? I'm a psychic, not Google." Elizabeth grins, liking her sass. "Now sit down while I still like being a gracious host." She sits in an armchair, leaving the hunters with the couch across from her. Sam and Dean get the cushions while Elizabeth sits on Sam's lap and the other two make use of the couch arms. They've barely gotten settled when Missouri points a warning finger in Dean's direction. "Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I'm gonna whack you with a spoon."
Dean looks successfully chided, swallowing hard. "I didn't do anything," he whines.
"She's a psychic, jackass," Archer reminds him. "The mind-reading type that can see every naughty thought you have, so I wouldn't think too much if I were you."
"And you, Archer," Missouri says, turning her gaze on him. "You keep your mouth shut or I'm gonna shove that spoon somewhere you can't remove it! Leavin' poor Dana alone to raise a baby, you should be ashamed of yourself." Archer looks down at his shoes, having the grace to look ashamed under Missouri's harsh glare.
"Okay," Zane says after a moment of awkward silence, drawing out the word. "When did you first meet Johnny boy?"
"He came for a reading a few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark, the reason Christopher was often gone and leaving his daughters with his friend in South Dakota." She knew my dad, too? "Yes, honey, I even babysat you a few times. I drew back the curtains for both of them, helped Christopher to understand what killed his wife." No one's ever told her who killed Alice or even if it was anything supernatural.
"What about the fire," Dean asks, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. "D-do you know about what killed our mom?"
"A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hoping I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing."
"And could you," Sam asks, blinking back tears. Elizabeth holds both of her boys' hands, squeezing them as she fights back the thoughts clouding her head about her mother. Alice isn't the priority right now, John is.
"I don't…." She shakes her head, looking more troubled than she did when the hunters first walked in.
"What was it?"
"I don't know." Missouri shakes her head again, looking at the two siblings tenderly. "But it was evil. Do you think something's back in that house?"
"Oh, I know there is," Archer states. "An old flame of mine called in a favor to see if I could get rid of the rats in her house but, uh, there weren't any rats. Something's in that place and I'd bet my life that it's nothin' good." Missouri stands, pacing around to calm herself.
"I don't understand."
"What's there to be confused about," Elizabeth asks, shifting to sit on Sam's knees. "There's something there and it's probably the thing that got Mary." Missouri sits in her chair again, worried now.
"I haven't been back inside, but I've been keeping an eye on the place, and it's been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it acting up now?"
"Maybe the new occupants brought whatever it is with them."
"No," Archer shakes his head," I would've noticed that in their old house. They didn't bring it with 'em."
"I don't know," Sam says dejectedly," but Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house, all happening at once, it just feels like something's starting."
"That's a comforting thought," Dean frowns. What the hell is going on in our lives anymore? Jesus, it's like John going missing was just a catalyst and everything's gone wonky since then; simple hunts turning hard, that bad case of something that hit Elizabeth a few months ago, and now the old Winchester house acting up.
Why does she get the feeling that they're all just plain screwed?