Elizabeth had been intent on actually getting a full night's rest, maybe sleep in until eight, but all of that's shot to hell when they find another car accident on the same stretch of road that's claimed two men already. She's on her second cup of coffee by the time they actually make it to the scene, finishing it off on the walk over to Cassie and the white guy from the day before. They're arguing again and Elizabeth takes Cassie's side on instinct even if she doesn't know for sure what the argument is about.
"What is it you want me to do here, Cassie," the man's asking, all exasperation. "Close the only road that leads in and out of town? That can't happen and you know it. I think you also know that these accidents are simply that—accidents."
"Did you happen to check over this accident for any extra dents," Dean asks, raising his brows. The white guy turns his attention to the hunters that have surrounded Cassie, looking a little put-out at the sight. "Maybe the car was pushed off the road."
"And just who are you?"
"Family friends," Cassie answers. "Sam and Dean Winchester and Elizabeth Mayson. Guys, this is Mayor Harold Todd. He's the one that called me about Jimmy's death." Elizabeth vaguely remembers Jimmy from the day before, the man that had been on Cassie's side. He's dead now, already loaded into the back of an ambulance that'll run without the lights on today.
"Well, kids, there's only one set of tire tracks on and off the road. It doesn't exactly point to foul play." Elizabeth's gaze slides over to the ruined car, right side up and busted; the back fender is scratched till hell wouldn't have it, the front bumper is barely hanging on, and the driver's side door had to be pried open in order to reach Jimmy.
"Mayor, the police and town officials take their cues from you. If you're indifferent about all of this—"
"Indifferent?"
"You want me to be blunt?"
"Cassie, you've been blunt since you learned how to talk."
"Would you close the road if the victims were white?" Elizabeth's attention fixes back on the conversation at hand, gauging the Mayor's reaction. It's a justified question when all the victims have been black and nothing has been done to actually rule them an accident beyond half a second's observation. The Mayor lets out a breathless, punched-out sound of disbelief.
"I promise you, I'm the last person you should accuse of being racist."
"Got any proof, Mayor? Sure, you bought your car from my daddy's dealership and you buy the town newspaper, but that doesn't mean shit."
"I think that's a question for your mother." He turns before Cassie can continue to grill him, getting into his car and driving off. Cassie's jaw works for a second before she spins around to face the others, the stubborn gleam in her eyes making Elizabeth's stomach twist.
"That offer to beat people up still on the table?"
"Comes with a reusable gift card," Elizabeth nods.
"Good, I might have to use it before this is over with." She heaves a deep breath, hands going to Elizabeth's hips just like they used to. It seems you just fall back into old patterns around certain people. Elizabeth's arms drape around Cassie's shoulders, calloused fingers playing with some of her hair. "Today's going to suck."
"You'll get through it, hon. You're strong, remember?" Cassie manages a weak smile, resting their foreheads together. She reaches out blindly, grabbing onto Dean and yanking him close until they're all touching in some way. It's nice to feel the combined warmth, but that old spark isn't there anymore.
"I should get back to the house, I have to get dressed for the—" She cuts herself off, eyes shining when she finally pulls back. "It's in a couple of hours. You guys coming?"
"Course we are," Dean assures her. "Come on, we'll follow you in our car to make sure you get home okay." She nods, all of them moving back to the road that's clogged with traffic. They slowly make their way past the cruisers and emergency vehicles, heading back toward town and branching onto Main Street so they can get to the motel.
Elizabeth goes straight to the bathroom after she unlocks the door, shucking her pajamas in favor of her nicest black dress and a pair of heels. She doesn't go all out, never has when it comes to funerals, so she's done in time to come out and help Dean with his tie.
"Cassie's fearless, isn't she," Sam asks as he yanks on an ill-fitting suit coat. Dean hums a response and Elizabeth remains quiet, focused on creating a perfect Windsor knot. "I bet she'd win in a fight against you two." Another hum, Dean keeping his chin up so that she can finish the task.
"She did, Sammy," Elizabeth says, quiet. "Now drop it."
"It's interesting, though. You and Cassie have no trouble meeting each other's gaze, but her and Dean can't manage it." Elizabeth moves to do his tie next, deciding on a Kelvin knot this time. "Don't you think that's interesting, Liza? Maybe a little weird or tense." The last word comes out a little strangled, Elizabeth putting a little too much pressure when she jerks the knot into place against his throat.
"Not in the slightest."
"Can we focus on why we're actually here now," Dean asks, finally looking at his brother. "Like the fact that three men have been murdered by something out of a Stephen King novel. Let's go."
The formal attire stays on after the funeral, the hunters jumping right into interrogation mode to find out anything they can about the three dead men. All they know for sure is that they were well-respected, friends, and black. Unless some racist asshat has somehow become owner of the invisible boatmobile, then Elizabeth's pretty sure the culprit is a racist asshat of a ghost that holds a grudge better than she does.
"Are you sure you wanna go with the insurance company idea," Sam asks as they head towards the docks. "I mean, most people around here are probably with the same company and one slip will out us."
"You got any better ideas," Dean asks. The man they're approaching is white and bald, early forties. Cassie had pointed him out at the funeral, one of Jimmy's close friends. "I'm all for something solid."
"I got one," Elizabeth says. "Follow my lead. It shouldn't be too hard." She reaches the man first, giving a polite smile. "Hi, you're Ron Stubbins, right?" He nods as he looks up, shaking the hand Elizabeth offers. "I'm Elizabeth Mayson, Cassie's friend."
"Right," the man nods. "You used to hang around here when she was in college. Spent a weekend in her apartment until her daddy dragged the two of you out for fresh air." She ignores the flush of embarrassment, Ron's gaze sliding past her to the boys. "These two friends of yours?"
"A boyfriend and an annoying pain in the neck." Ron narrows his eyes, pointing at Dean with something like a smile. "He's both."
"I'll bet. What can I do for you, Miss Mayson?"
"I was hoping you could tell me about Jimmy. He was killed the same way Mister Robinson and Mister Solmes were."
"And you think it's all connected? You a cop now?"
"Not even remotely, Mister Stubbins. I'm just very good at investigating and have this awful need to put my old partners at ease. I'm sure you can understand something like that." He nods, brushing his fingers over the gold wedding ring. The man sitting next to him is doing much the same thing, but he remains silent. "You have to admit that it's weird, if nothing else."
"Very weird," says the other man. He's around Ron's age, a round friendly face, and black. He looks like the type of guy you'd confess anything to just to get him to smile and pat you on the head. "You have a specific question to ask either of us, hon?"
"Yeah, Cassie's dad mentioned seeing something in the week before he died. I'm not sure about Mister Solmes yet, but did Jimmy say anything like that? Maybe said he thought he was being followed?"
"You wanna know about that black truck, don't you? The one that appears and disappears." Elizabeth leans forward, placing her hands against the table. The man gives a slow nod, a grim set to his mouth. "I've heard of a truck like that, a big, scary-looking sucker. I'm not sure if this is connected to everything else, but there was a string of deaths back in the sixties. All the victims were black men."
"Were they run off the road?"
"According to the all the stories, they disappeared into a nasty black truck. They found the bodies later on, but they never found the person responsible. Hell, I'm not even sure they looked. Back then the town wasn't concerned about all its citizens."
"Well, maybe my friends and I can solve that mystery."
"Good luck to you, hon. Now, if you don't mind, I'm in the middle of kicking Ron's ass at checkers." Ron scowls down at his pieces on the board and then over at his friend.
"I'll leave you to that. And thank you for your time." He nods as the hunters head back the way they came, bickering with Ron over whose turn it is. "So, how'd you like my plan to just tell the truth?"
"Not bad," Dean says. He puts a hand on her back when she stumbles, the heal of her shoe catching on a water-swollen plank. "Too bad we can't go with that more often. So, are we thinking this is something like the Flying Dutchman? Evil, murderous, douchebag's spirit fused with the ugly truck?"
"Sounds like it," Sam nods. "And they're all black men that have been killed."
"And all of them have a connection to the Robinsons."
"So go talk to her."
"Which one of us?"
"Either or both, none of y'all seem to be too picky on that matter." They stop when they reach the Impala, Dean and Elizabeth turning to give Sam their best bitch face. He doesn't react the way he should, giving them a dopey smile. "What? It's pretty obvious you all still have feelings for each other."
"Dean, go talk to Cassie later," Elizabeth says. "Tell her I send my love and also a condom or two because you both really do need to work through all that tension. While you're doing that, I'm going to make Sam wish he'd never opened his mouth to make that comment on my pickiness."
"Aw, crap."
Sam and Elizabeth spend the night in the motel without Dean, Sam forced to watch Mean Girls on repeat and listen to Elizabeth quote the characters. It's the ultimate form of torture for him, his least favorite movie and his biggest pet peeve. Let it not be said that Elizabeth isn't a spiteful person.
"So, tell me about back then."
"What do you mean," she asks, watching as Cady gets ready for the Halloween party. She'd dressed just like that two years ago and like Karen last year. Poor Lilly never understood why Tanya and Darren giggled the entire night.
"You and Dean and Cassie. Tell me about it." She stiffens and can't force herself to relax, not even when Cady bursts in on Janis and Damian. That's one of her favorite parts and she can't even bring herself to laugh. She pauses Mean Girls, something that never happens because no one is actually dumb enough to interrupt Mean Girls.
"What do you want me to say, Sammy? That it was one of the best times in my life after my sister died? That I felt so normal whenever Cassie held me or kissed my forehead? That it was nice to be able to talk to someone without the threat of monsters entering the conversation?"
"Yeah. Get it out, Liza." She sucks in a sharp breath, tearing her gaze away from the frozen image of flying popcorn. Sam is completely at ease when she glances over at him, leaning against the headboard with a book on vengeful spirits opened in his lap.
"I met Cassie about a month after Dean did, he convinced her to spend a weekend in Chandler because he wanted his girlfriend and his best friend to get along. Needless to say, we got along pretty freaking well." Sam snorts, but keeps quiet. "I'd visit her whenever I had free time, we'd all curl up in a bed and just…. I don't know."
"Just relax into each other like love-sick puppies, but in a good way?"
"Exactly. Dean and I told her we worked with his dad on the road a lot, that's why we were gone so often. We'd text or call at least twice a day, check in with each other. It was nice." Sam's nodding and then he's reaching out for the remote, pressing play before going back to his reading.
"I understand how that is, Liza."
"So why don't I feel like Dean does about it all? Why don't I feel that draw to Cassie like I used to?"
"Because you got over the break-up."
"But Dean hasn't." He glances up from the small print he's been squinting over, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. She wonders how much sleep he got last night, if he's still having those nightmares about Jess being trapped on the ceiling.
"He's getting there."
They spend the rest of the night curled up on Sam's bed, switching over to Spcaeballs at some point. Sam has his book put away for that movie and they're both sound asleep by the time Lone Starr baffles Dark Helmet by going plaid.
TNT has switched to Con Air when the police scanner wakes them up seven hours later, Sam jerking in surprise and sending Elizabeth tumbling to the ground with a grunt of pain. He doesn't even apologize for it, hearing the code for a hit and run and stumbling to the bathroom.
"Son of a bitch," Elizabeth groans, sitting up. "Why is it always morning when people have to be murdered? I'm not a morning person. I need coffee." She keeps mumbling to herself as she gets dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a simple white tee. Sam comes out of the bathroom fully dressed a moment later, barely sparing the time to pull on his coat and boots before he's heading out the door to the Impala.
Elizabeth staggers after him, attempting to pull on her Converse as she goes. It's snowed at some point, a light layer of white covering the ground and soaking into her left sock before she can get her shoe on. Elizabeth grumbles some more as she gets into the front seat, getting the heater on as soon as her door's closed.
"Who do you think got turned into roadkill today?"
"No idea," Sam says, driving carefully. "Hopefully we can figure this thing out before another person gets run down."
"I'd toast to that but I don't have any coffee."
"You're an addict."
"Yes, I have a problem, but at least it's an inexpensive problem. I could be addicted to cocaine." He snorts a little, navigating the town easily until he reaches the fresh crime scene. The same stretch of road is loaded down by emergency vehicles again, the Mayor absent this time around. "What are we identifying as today?"
"FBI?"
"That works." She digs the well-used badge out of the tin box she has shoved under the front seat. "What's your name today, Sammy?"
"Agent Vincent Vincente."
"The hair rock dude? With the crappy music and the head-banging and the guyliner?" He's blushing a deep red, ducking his head to hide it. "You're such a dork. How do you even have friends with music taste like that? I'm ashamed."
"What are you going as?"
"Nancy Thompson."
"As in the chick from the Nightmare movies?"
"At least people still like my choice." He scoffs but doesn't argue further, getting out of the car and striding over to the cops. Elizabeth hangs behind, pulling her phone out of her coat pocket. Dean picks up on the second ring, groggy but awake. "We got another hit and run."
"Seriously," he asks. "Why can't people die at a more convenient time?"
"Because our luck is terrible. Same stretch of highway, I don't know who it is yet, and we're playing FBI dress up today. Bring coffee." She hangs up and strides over to Sam, hands in her jacket pockets to fight the cold. "Have you talked to anyone yet?"
"Not yet. I figured I'd let them load the stiff."
"Nah, let's get it over with. Dean's on his way and he's gonna want some information in exchange for coffee." She flags an officer down, the deputy only breaking away when she flashes her badge. "Hi, I'm Agent Thompson and this is Agent Vincente."
"Like the hair rock dude," the deputy asks, arching a brow.
"Exactly like the hair rock dude. We tease him about it all the time." Sam is scowling over at her, uncaring that it looks unprofessional. "Anyway, our boss heard about all the accidents out this way and they wanted us to touch base and offer our services. Can you tell me what happened?"
"Well, we got a phone call this morning by Mrs. Barnes over there." He points out a brunette with a poodle, shivering in the chilled air. "She went out jogging and happened across the body of our Mayor."
"The scanner said a hit and run."
"That's what it looked like at first, what with all the internal injuries and stuff, but there's no tracks. It's almost like it was a ghost truck or something." Elizabeth nods, brows furrowing as she watches the coroner zip the Mayor up in a body bag. "We'll know what really happened after the autopsy's done."
"Why was the Mayor out here in the first place," Sam asks.
"He owns the property, bought it a few weeks ago with some big renovation plans. Don't know what's going to happen now." He excuses himself and wanders back to the mess, the snow clumped and red where the Mayor had died. It's already starting to freeze, so he must have been out here for a few hours.
"What'd I miss," Dean asks, jogging over. "Barney have anything interesting to say?" Sam fills him in on what the deputy had said, Dean nodding along to the info dump. "Okay, so he's got all the markings of a hit and run victim, but no evidence of the actual vehicle. Sounds like our truck."
"But the Mayor was white," Sam points out. "And he wasn't run off the road like the other three were."
"You two go get the property records from the courthouse and I'll go to the paper and see if I can't find some connection there."