Elizabeth is pretty sure the universe is out to get her if the broken coffee pot in the motel lobby is anything to go off of. It's just not fair, she needs her coffee to function properly.

"Hey, Liza," Dean says. She grunts in response, glaring at the note tapped to the coffee machine. Out of Order, it reads. "Remember Cassie from Missouri? The one we used to date?" She grunts again, her glare turning to the empty cup in her hand. "Her dad died last night." If she doesn't get coffee soon, she will be out of order.

"Wait, Cassie? Our Cassie?" He nods as she turns to look at him, green eyes off-set by the dark bruises under them. "That's awful. Mister Robinson was such a sweet guy."

"Yes he was."

"Did she call to give us information for his funeral? Because I'm pretty sure she hated us last time we saw her."

"Actually she thinks something caused his death." Elizabeth raises her brows, trying to drink from her cup only to frown when she remembers it's empty. "Our kind of something, Liza."

"Well shit, I guess we're going to Missouri. I'll go get Sammy and you go get coffee. God knows we're going to need it." She tosses the disposable cup into the trash can before marching down the line of rooms to the one Sam's inside. She knocks lightly, giving a tired smile when the door opens. "I'm still your favorite person, right?"

"What did you do," he asks.

"Why do you always assume I did something whenever I ask you that? I'm a good person, Sam." He raises his brows, entirely unimpressed as he stares down at her. "We're taking a detour to Missouri for a few days. An old friend's dad has died and…. And it might not have been the natural type of death."

"Our thing?"

"Yep."

"And by old friend, did you date her or did Dean?"

"Both of us."

"Both of you?"

"At the same time, yes." He scoffs and turns to walk farther into the room, leaving the door open for Elizabeth to follow him. His bag is already packed and sat on the table near the door, laptop leaning beside it. "No comments from the clown section?"

"Did everyone know you all were dating each other at the same time? No cheating involved?"

"Totally. I'm not the cheating type unless it's at Go Fish." Sam grins over at her, sitting on the edge of a bed to pull his boots on. "Remember that girl I told you about a few years ago? The one with aspirations of becoming a writer?" He nods, not looking up from tying his laces. "It's her, Sammy."

"Wait, Cassie? Your Cassie? You fell hard for her."

"I know I did, but Dean fell harder." Sam does look up at that, brows furrowed a second before he gets up and pulls her into a hug. "What's this for?"

"Because you're my favorite person." She snorts, leaning into the hug. "Also, I don't see Dean cheating on you even if it was his favorite porn star that was asking him to."

"That's not really what I'm worried about, but it's a nice reassurance anyway."

"Then what are you worried about?"

"That she still hates us for not telling her everything." Sam's quiet for a long while, hand running up and down Elizabeth's back. He's thinking, she knows that and gives him time. As long as he keeps hugging, then he can think as long as he likes.

"You're all older now," he finally says. "She either understands why you guys couldn't tell her anything or she'll bury the anger. She wouldn't have reached out to you guys if she didn't want to see you."

"Here's to hoping. C'mon, Dean's supposed to be getting coffee and then we're out of here." Sam grabs his bag and laptop before following her into the chilled November air, closing the motel room door behind him. Dean's waiting for them behind the wheel, holding up a cup for Elizabeth to see. "Thank God for caffeine."

"Otherwise you'd be in prison for murder."

"Damn straight." She slides into the backseat and takes her cup from Dean, letting out an obscene moan at the rich taste. French Vanilla creamer and a dash of chocolate, she'd marry Dean if she thought he'd say yes.

"Did you tell him," Dean asks, nodding at the opened trunk that's concealing his brother.

"Yeah, he's cool with it."

"He would have pitched a fit if I told him."

"Not for this." Dean frowns, contemplative. He's tapping out a rhythm on the seat with blunt nails, an old Beatles song that he hums whenever he's really concentrating or too tired to realize what he's doing. She wonders if he's thinking of those good days before everything blew up; cold afternoons spent in Cassie's room with a rock song playing on the radio and the taste of mocha Chapstick sweet on his lips.

"I miss her. Is that bad?"

"She was your first love, Dee. She's…." Elizabeth trails off, remembering deft fingers carding through her hair and a pair of soft lips kissing their way down her neck. "Cassie's special. She'll always be special to us."

"Have you told Sam about her?"

"Bits and pieces." He nods again, stilling tapping out that rhythm like his life depends on it. "You should tell him more about her before we get there. It'll mean more coming from his big brother."

"And not his sister?"

"I'm not the one he looks up to." The trunk closes and Sam's in the passenger seat before Dean can think up an excuse. "Sammy, do you still have my book? The Cornelia Funke one?"

"Yeah," he says. Sam digs through the glove compartment and passes her a worn paperback, the edges rounded and the spine creased. She's read it so many times that she practically has it memorized; the words are tattooed on her mind. This is the go-to book for cheering her up. "Any reason in particular that you're re-reading Inkheart?"

"Do I need one?"

"I guess not." She can feel his gaze on her, a heavy thing full of questions, and she's relieved when he turns the searching gaze to Dean instead. "So, Cassie, huh?"

"Cassie," Dean confirms.

"Liza told me a little about her, you know. Said she's the most beautiful woman she's ever met, smart. What she never made clear was why they broke up." Dean shrugs, back out of the parking spot and heading for the highway. If they take shifts driving, then they should reach Cape Girardeau in a day or so. "Why did you guys break up?"

"Because she knew Liza and I were keeping a secret from her. I told her what it was, Liza backed me up, and she dumped us. That's it." Elizabeth traces a passage with her finger, not wanting to remember that particular afternoon. There was no aftertaste of mocha or sweet caresses, just yelling and begging and then radio silence.

"So that's why Liza kept telling me not to let Jess in on the family secret." His gaze is back on her, but she stays focused on her book even if she's just reading the same sentence over and over again.

"Yeah, Sammy. That's why."

They find Cassie Robinson at her job, all fiery energy and wild corkscrew curls. She's hasn't changed much in the past few years, still just as amazing as Elizabeth remembers. She's currently glaring down an old white dude, a portly black man at her side doing much the same thing. The dude probably has it coming.

The white guy says something too quiet to catch before walking out, the other man wandering back to an office while Cassie turns towards the main entrance. She freezes when she first catches sight of them, but then the frigid anger bleeds away into relief and Elizabeth allows herself to relax.

"Dean," Cassie breathes out. "Liza, I'm glad you guys came." She moves closer, holding a folder against her middle as a barrier between them as she looks from Dean's face to Elizabeth's.

"Nice to see you again, Cassie," Elizabeth says, smiling.

"Yeah," Dean nods, stunned almost speechless. "Ditto." Cassie snorts, shaking her head in amusement. There's no hate in her eyes like there was the last time Elizabeth had seen her, no threats on her tongue or a sneer capable of cutting Elizabeth in half. This is her Cassie, the one with sweet words and a backbone made of steel.

"Either of you gonna introduce me to your sidekick or are we going to play charades until I guess right," Cassie asks, her voice soft as silk.

"Oh right. This is Sammy, my brother. I told you about him, right?"

"I think most of our conversations revolved around him. I always pictured him as a little kid when you told me about him and some kind of giant when Liza did. Real Sammy is somewhere in the middle." Sam's blushing and scratching at his head, all embarrassed and adorable.

"I'm… I'm real sorry about what happened to your dad." The smile fades, dying away like old flower petals without enough water. The Chapstick is gone, replaced by a deep maroon lipstick that compliments the light brown of her skin. Cassie's lucky, her complexion is gorgeous and Elizabeth would kill for one that nice.

"Thanks." They all lull into an uncomfortable silence, not quite meeting each other's stares or acknowledging the smile Sam is giving them all. It's the type of smile that only siblings can manage, the one that comes out when their siblings are feeling supremely awkward and there's nothing that can alleviate the situation. Elizabeth is gonna get him back for that smile later.

"We'll go hunt down some lunch and let you get back to work," Elizabeth finally says. "Text us when you get off and let us know when you want to meet."

"I don't think I have your number."

"It hasn't changed." Cassie nods and pulls her phone out, selecting contacts and holding it out for Elizabeth to see. "Good to know it wasn't just Dean's number you kept."

"I'm annoyingly sentimental."

"Looks like we have that in common."

It's dark when they meet up at the Robinson house, the hunters squeezed onto the couch as Cassie brings a tray of tea into the room. She's talking as she goes, a nervous habit that makes Elizabeth fight off a smile. "My mom's not doing so well lately," she's saying. "It makes her feel better to know that someone's in the house with her, so I've basically moved back in."

"That's a parent thing," Elizabeth says. "I'm still guilted into spending at least two weeks with Bobby during the summer."

"Crazy dude with all the guns and a severe dislike of peppermint?"

"That's the one." Cassie sets the tray down so she can start pouring the tea into cute little mugs. "Was your mom nervous before the accident?"

"Yeah, she was worried about my dad. He kept saying he was being followed by this awful black truck." She brings the mugs over to the guys and goes back for hers and Elizabeth's, eventually sitting on the loveseat across from them. The tea is warm, sweetened with just the right amount of sugar and honey. Cassie always did remember how Elizabeth likes her tea.

"Was there any reason to be afraid of a truck?"

"Or maybe the guy driving the truck," Sam chimes in.

"That's the thing," Cassie says. "He never talked about the driver. It's weird, right? The truck itself might look trashy, but it's not going to hurt you unless the person behind the wheel wants you hurt. Even weirder is the fact that he said it used to appear and disappear."

"That is weird."

"Look, I wouldn't have called you if it was just him thinking he was seeing things. He was on this blood pressure medicine that I don't really trust and I'd just pass the truck thing off as some kind of hallucination, but…"

"But?"

"But the side of Dad's car was dented, like something hit him and forced him off the road. Dad was super anal about his cars, okay? He could probably outdo Dean when it came to keeping his car in working condition. No scratches, no trash, and no dents."

"Can you tell us about that night," Dean asks, setting his cup on the side table. He's never been a big tea drinker, but Elizabeth will get him some coffee later when he inevitably slips into research mode.

"It was raining, had been for most of the day so the roads were slick and there was mud everywhere. There was a set of tracks on the road where he'd tried to break, one set of tracks in the mud when he went over. His car was upright, most of the damage was on the passenger's side, and there was no reason for that dent on the driver's side."

"And the guy that passed away before this, he was a friend of your dad's?"

"Clayton Solmes. They owned a car dealership together." She sucks in a shaky breath, clasping her trembling hands together between her knees. "His car was in the same condition as my dad's, the same stretch of road."

"Only one set of tracks then," Elizabeth asks.

"Yeah, one set of tracks and a big dent on the driver's side. Whatever hit them was massive. The freaking cops said he lost control of his car despite it being a clear day and Uncle Clayton never driving over fifteen when he's in town. They're saying that about my dad, too."

"Want me to beat them up?" It's only half a joke and Cassie seems to get that, smiling even as she shakes her head. "Let me know if you change your mind. I'm really good at not getting caught."

"Says the woman that got dragged out of a church last week for assaulting the preacher's wife," Dean scoffs.

"The lady was killing random people, I had no choice but to assault her."

"You tackled her, Liza. It wasn't exactly your subtlest moment."

"Think we can get back to the matter at hand," Cassie asks, entirely too amused. "We can talk about the church incident tomorrow over coffee, though. Catching up is more fun when there's gossip involved."

"Then you'll love to hear why Liza and I broke out of a police station." Sam coughs purposefully, elbowing Dean's arm lightly to get him back on track. "Right, so the cops are being assholes, that's nothing new. Can you tell me why Clayton and your dad might have been targets for some deranged nutbag?"

"That's all I've been trying to figure out. There's no reason for someone to want them dead. All I know is that I feel like I'm going crazy. I mean, ghost trucks? That's stupid, right?"

"My ribs would beg to differ," Sam grouses. "Ghost cars suck."

"Yeah, well, I'm a little skeptical about all of this ghost stuff you guys are into." Dean's huffed laugh is full of contempt, fingers tapping against his knee as he leans forward. He's happy to see Cassie again, but he's also itching for a fight.

"Skeptical, huh," he asks. "I seem to remember you calling me nuts when I tried to explain it to you. That was also the same day that you threw a charm bracelet at Liza's head when she had the audacity to back me up."

"That was before my dad was murdered." It does nothing to diffuse the tension between the pair, only adding fuel to logs already soaked in gasoline. The fire is going to be huge whenever one of them lights a match. It's probably a good thing that Elizabeth doesn't feel the pent-up rage that Dean does.

Before that match can be lit, the front door opens and the three of them jump guiltily. Sam doesn't react beyond looking in the direction of the front door, totally at ease amongst the tension. Elizabeth kind of wants to punch him.

"Mom," Cassie says when an older woman comes inside. The woman is average height and dressed in layers to fight the chill, hair falling against her shoulders and reflecting copper in the light. "Where have you been?" The hunters stand in unison with Cassie, all of them moving closer to the new arrival. She's pale, no color in her cheeks as she struggles to catch her breath.

"I didn't know you were expecting guests," the woman says instead of answering.

"This is Dean and Elizabeth, friends from college, and this is Dean's brother, Sam." Sam gives her a chipper wave and the puppy dog smile no one within seventy-five yards can resist. "They got into town this afternoon and decided to pay a visit."

"Well, don't let me interrupt." She goes to walk away but pauses when Dean starts to talk.

"Mrs. Robinson, we're very sorry for your loss. If you don't mind, we'd like to speak with you for a minute."

"I'm sorry, I really not feeling up to that right now. Maybe some other time." She wanders away, the heels of her shoes clicking on the hardwood floors. She keeps her head ducked, like she's afraid she'll see something if she happens to look up. She looks scared.

"On that note I think it's time to head out. We'll talk to you in the morning, Cassie."