They haven't been in the motel room for five minutes when Dean slams his fist against the table hard enough to make Sam's laptop slide threateningly close to the edge. Elizabeth pushes it back into place and drops down into a chair. "A private session," Dean growls, pacing around the room. "That's what he told Layla's mom!"

"So we'll crash it," Elizabeth shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time we ruined someone's gathering. Hey, Sammy, remember that one time your roommate invited a chick over and kept you locked out of your dorm for six hours so we threw a stink bomb through his bedroom window?"

"Yeah," Sam laughs. "That was great."

"Your idea is to throw a stink bomb through Roy's window," Dean asks, unimpressed.

"Well, I snatched Sue Ann's spell book, so maybe that'll slow her down a little." Sam shrugs, holding up a small journal with pieces of newspaper poking out of the top of it. "It was written by a priest that would have made Darth Vader proud."

"Is there anything useful in it?"

"There's a pretty interesting binding spell." That has Dean coming to a halt, turning to look at the journal Sam's holding out for him. "You have to have specific things on your altar, not just that cross. I'm talking bones and human blood for a start. This lady is seriously bitchy."

"I get it, though. I mean, I'd do whatever it took to save you two idiots. She was just trying to save her husband."

"But after that? The other deaths?"

"Yeah, that was pure bitchiness, no questions about it."

"So are we in agreement that the altar and the cross have got to go," Elizabeth asks, raising a brow. "Because I'm ready to go all Jack Torrence on that shit. Someone get me a roque mallet." Dean snorts and gives her a tired smile, tossing the journal on the bed.

"How are we supposed to do any of this if Liza isn't allowed within twenty feet of the Le Grange property?"

"Carefully, my dude. We do it carefully." She meets Sam's gaze from across the room, lips curling up into a purely menacing smile. "The same way Sam and I avoided being charged with destruction of public property two years ago."

The lot is mostly deserted that night, only three cars in all; Roy's, a cruiser, and Layla's. They sit in silence for a moment, the rumbling engine the only sound. Dean's still gripping the steering wheel, careful not to look at anyone.

"It's not your fault," Elizabeth says after a moment. "That girl has a time bomb in her head, but you didn't put it there."

"She should have been cured instead of me."

"Are we really doing this again?" Dean's knuckles turn white and the leather over the wheel creaks in protest. "Layla's been coming to Roy for a while now, she told you that herself. If she was supposed to be healed then he would have picked her before now."

"Are you saying this was Fate?"

"I don't know what it is, Dean, but it isn't your fault."

"She's right," Sam says, squeezing his brother's shoulder. "You've always shouldered so much guilt and half of that baggage isn't even yours. Let this go, man. You can't carry it around forever." Elizabeth scoots forward and lifts up until her chin is resting on Sam's hand, wrapping an arm around Dean so that they're all touching.

"Let's just keep another innocent person from dying. After that, we take it one day at a time." He doesn't talk for a long while, but then his shoulders are drooping and he's reaching out for his family, clasping Elizabeth's hand and patting Sam's leg.

"Fine," he relents. "Let's get this shit over with." They make their way to the tent, peering inside at the small crowd gathered inside. "Wait, where's Sue Ann?"

"The house," Sam suggests. "I bet she's doing whatever she can to make sure nothing goes screwy tonight."

"Then lets go get her." The house is on the same muddy lot as the tent, standing tall in the moonlight and patrolled by the two deputies from earlier. "Oh shit. Sam, take Liza with you and make sure she isn't seen."

"I have a better idea," Elizabeth says. "You boys go kick Sue Ann's ass and I'll cause a ruckus. After all, that's what I'm good at." She's moving before the boys have a chance to stop her, flinging her arms wide when the cops look over at her. "Hey, handsome! Still wanna use those cuffs on me?"

She takes off at a sprint with the cops chasing after her, ducking and weaving between old trucks and campers that look ready to grow roots in the lot. She just has to keep these guys distracted long enough for Sam and Dean to destroy a couple of things. It shouldn't be too bad as long as she keeps moving.

Elizabeth scrambles up the side of one of the newer campers, resting flat against it and watching the deputies run past, the psycho mutt inside barking its head off at them. She's content to stay right where she is when the lights begin to go out, the bulbs shattering and falling to the grass in a spray of electric sparks.

"What in the hell…?" She sits up a little, looking around for a cause when she spots someone, a tall old man that seems more like a skeleton than anything else. He looks almost gray in the moonlight, age spots littering his face and eyes barely more than dark hollows sunken deep in his face. "That can't be good." She answers her phone when she feels it vibrating in her pocket, pressing it against her ear. "Yeah?"

"You're next," Dean says. There's a pounding sound on his end of the line, like a wooden bat cracking against a softball. "We destroyed the altar but Sue Ann locked us in the cellar."

"Did your Reaper look like a rejected cast member from a Tim Burton movie?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Think he can climb?"

"No frigging idea, Liza. Just hang on, we're coming." She hangs up and pockets the phone edging as far back as she dares as the Reaper continues to advance. He's almost to the camper now, one hand coming out to beckon at her.

"If you want me so damn bad, then you're gonna have to climb up here and get me." He's at the camper now, one foot on the running board to lift himself up. She jumps down on the opposite side, turning to run only to fall back in surprise when the Reaper appears in front of her. "Dean! Sam!"

"Liza!"

"Hel—" The shout turns to something garbled, a cold hand cupping the side of her head and driving her to her knees. The pain seems to explode behind her eyes, an unimaginable pressure that consumes her entire being until it's all she can focus on. His face is kind as he bends over her, following her the rest of the way to the ground.

"Liza, where is he?" Dean's voice is muffled, like she's underwater and her ears have popped. "Liza!" The Reaper is gone as quickly as he'd appeared, only a leftover ache making her temples throb letting her know he'd been there at all.

"Dean?"

"I'm right here." He's on her right, hands hovering over her like he's afraid he'll hurt her if he touches her. "Is he gone?" She nods and then regrets the movement, stomach curdling. "Alright, lets get you to the car." Elizabeth squeezes her eyes shut as he hefts her up into his arms, vaguely aware of the mud in her hair and under her nails.

The next morning finds Elizabeth lounging in the bath with a bottle of beer and a book. She's pretty sure she's earned the right to be lazy for a couple of hours at this point. She's got music playing softly and the shower curtain pulled to dull the lights, and if she really focuses, she can pretend she's back in her apartment in Chandler.

"There's a story that the strolling players tell their children," she reads, cheeks wet with tears and steam. "About a fire-eater whose son the White Women took. In his despair he remembered something that was said about them: They fear fire, yet long for its warmth. …" There's a sound somewhere beyond the bathroom, the muffled sound of conversation between Dean and Layla before the door shuts again.

"Liza, you still awake," Dean asks, voice rough.

"I'm still awake." The door opens and closes behind him, Dean collapsing to the floor beside the tub and pressing his head against her empty hand. "Is she okay?"

"As okay as can be expected, I guess." He lets out a sigh, pulling the curtain back fully so he can look at her. There are bruises under his eyes, but he's alive, he's warm under her hand and his pulse is strong. "Will you read to me? I like listening to your voice."

"So he decided to summon them by his art and ask them to give him back his son. It worked. He summoned them with fire, he made it dance and sing for them, and they did not deliver his son to death but gave him back his life. However, they took the fire-eater with them, and he never came back."

All our times have come/Here but now they're gone/Seasons don't fear the reaper/Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain, we can be like they are/Come on baby, don't fear the reaper

The quote at the end is from the book Inkspell by Cornelia Funke.