Elizabeth lets out a groan as she pushes a book away from her, head dropping to the table with a thud. They've been at this for three hours and haven't found anything remotely interesting about the stretch of land that everyone's been dying on. At this point she just wants to curl up somewhere with her iPod and a couple of Tylenol.

She lets out another groan, looking over at her nerdy sidekick. Sam's scribbling something down in his notebook, looking more and more like some kind of zombie. Still, he's sitting upright which is more than can be said for Elizabeth.

"Sammy," she whines, drawing out his name. "I need coffee." He doesn't even look up from the property records, just keeps writing and scanning and ugh. Nerds are so boring. "Sammy." She pokes his shoulder hard enough to make him sway a little to the right. "Pay attention to me."

"This is why you barely graduated college."

"Don't be rude."

"Don't be a baby." She pouts when he reaches out a hand to poke her back, nearly toppling out of her seat. "Have you found anything useful?"

"Nope."

"Nothing at all? No weird deaths or Native American burial grounds?"

"Not a damn thing unless you want to count the rich white dudes that founded this town owning ninety percent of it back in the sixties." She straightens up, brushing some dust off her forehead. "The Dorians basically ran everything around here."

"Yeah, I've got a lot of old records about them too. They even owned that stretch of highway."

"Maybe that's the tie-in. The Mayor bought the property and started to renovate or had plans to renovate and some ancient Dorian said fuck that shit and fuck these people while I'm at it." Sam makes a face and shakes his head.

"But there hasn't been any actual work done yet aside from a house being knocked down. Todd just got the rights to the land last month and hasn't had time to start construction on anything."

"Maybe Dean's had better luck at the newspaper. We could call him on the way to get coffee."

"Fine, I'll be your caffeine enabler if it means you stop whining." Elizabeth is out of her seat and halfway up the steps before Sam even has his notebook pocketed. "Hey, wait up!"

"Put those abnormally long legs to work and get your ass over here, Winchester. I ain't got all day and my mocha Frappuccino is calling my name."

"Jesus, you sound like every white girl on TV."

"I like coffee, whipped cream, and chocolate. Being able to have all three put together is better than sex." He shakes his head, following her back to the main floor of the courthouse and out of the musty basement. Honestly, why can't they do research somewhere aboveground for once? Maybe in a place that isn't carpeted in dust? At least somewhere that doesn't look like it came out of a Vincent Price flick.

"You're such a freak." He pulls out his cell as they come outside, dialing his brother's number and holding it up to his ear. "Hey. Courthouse records state that Mayor Todd bought that property where everyone is getting killed. Previous owners were the Dorian family and they owned it for a hundred or so years." There's a pause and then Sam's answering with an affirmative.

"What's he saying?" Elizabeth doesn't wait for an answer, grabbing Sam's arm for balance and rising up on her toes so she can hear Dean's side of the conversation.

"I'm not your personal jungle gym you know."

"That's interesting."

"I was talking to Liza. She keeps-"

"Not you, Sammy. This article I just found. Turns out a guy named Cyrus Dorian vanished in April of sixty-three. The case was investigated but never solved which is surprising considering the dude's white. Isn't that around the time those murders were happening?"

"That's right, yeah. I pulled up a lot of papers on the old Dorian place and it turns out there has been some renovations done. The house was barely standing and Mayor Todd tore it down right off the bat. Maybe that jumpstarted this whole thing."

"Got a date on that?"

"Third of last month." Elizabeth can hear the clacking of keys on Dean's end, a murmured conversation that's further muffled like Dean's pressed his phone against his chest.

"The first death was the day after Todd bulldozed the house. Listen, Liza and I are going to pick us all up some coffee and you should print out as many articles as you can about the Dorian family in the sixties. We'll meet you back at the motel."

"Sounds good." Sam hangs up and stuffs his phone back in his jacket pocket, looking over at Elizabeth when she snorts.

"You know," she says," Cassie's really hesitant when it comes to change."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Sam remarks. "So what?"

"So she probably hasn't changed the locks at her apartment and I still have a key." He raises his brows as though the thought of illegally entering someone's home is shocking. "Dude, her coffee maker is amazing. I could make my own Frappuccino for free."

Elizabeth is sprawled out on a bed and going through old newspaper articles when Cassie calls, rambling about a ghost truck and bright headlights focused on the house. "Get upstairs and stay away from any windows," she orders, jumping up and nearly falling. "We'll be there in five."

"What's going on," Sam asks.

"Ghost truck is targeting Cassie now. Go start the car." She grabs the keys off the dresser and tosses them to Sam before making a beeline to the bathroom. The shower had cut off a moment ago so she opens the door without fear of making Dean slip and fall. "Get your clothes on and get to the car. Cassie's in trouble."

"Get the Impala started," he orders, yanking a shirt over his head.

"Already sent Sammy to do that. Hurry up." She grabs her shoes on the way out the door, climbing in the backseat as Dean comes barreling out of their room. His hair is still wet as he slides in the passenger's seat, leaving dark spots on his gray tee.

Sam gets them out of the parking lot and onto the road in record time, running every stop sign in town until they reach Cassie's house. There's no ghost truck on the property that Elizabeth can see, but that doesn't mean Jack shit in the long run. For all she knows, it's just waiting for Cassie or her mom to step out on the porch.

"Cassie," Elizabeth calls as she runs up to the front door.

"It's open!" She storms inside with the guys right behind her, not stopping until she's got Cassie in a tight hug and can breathe in the faint smell of lavender body wash. "Did you see it? Was it out there?"

"I didn't see anything, hon. It must have left before we got here." Elizabeth pulls back to study her ex, taking in the tremors and the fear and all the things that make her want to raze the world to the ground. Sure, she's gotten over the failed relationship, but part of her will always love Cassie. "Sammy, why don't you make us something hot to drink?"

"You got it," Sam says, not bringing up Elizabeth's addiction to caffeine for once. Elizabeth and Dean herd the women into the living room, all of them finding seats as they wait for Sam. It takes him about seven minutes in all thanks to the Keurig that Mrs. Robinson has, bringing in mugs of tea for the others and coffee for Elizabeth. It's missing the chocolate, but there's plenty of creamer so she can forgive him this once.

"Tell us what happened, Cassie."

"I was coming down the hall when I heard this sound like someone revving their car outside. At first I thought it was just some dumb kids, but then the high beams flashed on right outside the living room and the house is too far back from the road for something like that."

"What did the car look like," Dean asks.

"It was old and a shiny black, it had these pipes on the side like you see on semis. I remember it came right at the window and it followed me when I left the room. It's like the driver could see me." There are tears in her eyes, gathering in her lashes like diamond chips.

"Could you see the driver, though?" Cassie shakes her head, taking a sip of tea before answering.

"I couldn't make anything out past those headlights. Justin Timberlake could have been driving for all I know. I don't understand why it didn't just burst through the wall and kill me. Why did it just vanish?"

"Whatever's controlling the truck wants you afraid before it kills you. It's like it wants you to know it's coming after you, to put you on edge or something. I just wish I could figure out how it's choosing its targets." Sam nods, turning in his seat to look over at Mrs. Robinson. She's been quiet this whole time, nursing her tea and staring off into the middle distance.

"Mrs. Robinson, your husband saw the truck before he was killed, didn't he," Sam asks, voice soft.

"My husband was stressed when that happened. I'm sure he didn't actually see anything."

"A truck nearly turned your living room into a drive through not twenty minutes ago. I'm pretty sure we can safely say he saw the same truck before he was run off the road."

"You and your daughter are next on this thing's list," Elizabeth adds sharply. "There's obviously a reason it's chosen people somewhat close with your family, so why don't you tell us what you know before something awful happens."

"Martin said he saw a truck, the same one Cassie described," Mrs. Robinson admits, running her fingers through her hair. There's a fine tremor in her hands, causing her cup to clatter against its saucer. "He…. He told me it was the same one from—" She swallows hard and shakes her head. "He said it belonged to Cyrus."

"As in Cyrus Dorian," Dean asks.

"Yes, but it's not possible. Cyrus died over forty years ago." Elizabeth tenses as the words fall carelessly out of Mrs. Robinson's mouth, glancing over at Dean and then to Sam. "What?"

"I read about Cyrus in the paper, you know. It just said he disappeared and they weren't able to find him or his truck." Her eyes widen slightly when she realizes her mistake, mouth working uselessly for a moment. When she speaks again, her voice is weak.

"Because it's partially my fault that it happened. We were all so young back then and I had dated Cyrus for a time. I was seeing Martin in secret because interracial couples were treated so poorly. I broke it off with Cyrus eventually and he found out about Martin, and then he changed. He was so angry about it all and his anger frightened me."

"He was responsible for those murders, wasn't he," Sam asks, though it's more a statement. Cyrus grew jealous and took it out on black men that looked similar to Martin.

"I'd heard rumors about people of color disappearing into a truck, but nothing was ever done about it." There are tears in her eyes, but she blinks them away valiantly. "Martin and I were supposed to be married in that little church near here but decided to elope at the last minute to avoid having certain relatives ruin the occasion."

"What did Cyrus do?" Elizabeth has seen the church a few times, a burnt-out husk that might have been something beautiful once upon a time ago. The grass around it is dead all year round, the roof collapsed and the shutters hanging at odd angles from the windows.

Mrs. Robinson can't hold back the flood of tears any longer, letting out a choked sob as she presses a hand to her heart. "The day we set for the wedding was the day someone set fire to the church. There was a children's choir practicing in there and none of them made it out." Elizabeth draws in a sharp breath and then she's moving, settling down on the arm of the chair and wrapping her arms around the sobbing woman.

"Did the attacks stop after that?"

"No, there was one more."

"Shh, take your time," Elizabeth soothes, rubbing her back. Mrs. Robinson clutches at her, trying her hardest to stay grounded and not get swept away by the past.

"One night Martin was coming home from work when that truck forced him to get off the road or get run down. Cyrus got out and beat him something awful, but Martin was able to get loose and he started hitting Cyrus back. He kept hitting him with that damn baseball bat until Cyrus fell and didn't get back up."

"Why didn't you call the cops," Dean asks. Mrs. Robinson looks disgusted by the question, like Dean is some kind of idiot for not already knowing the answer.

"This was forty years ago. Those cops would take one look at the color of Martin's skin and decided he was guilty. Martin called his friends instead, Clayton and Jimmy, and they put Cyrus's body into the truck before rolling it into the swamp at the edge of his land. All three of them kept that secret for all these years."

"So we know how they were picked and even how you and Cassie were picked, but why would Cyrus go after the Mayor?"

"Harold Todd was a good man. He was a deputy back then, investigating Cyrus's disappearance. Once he figured out what had happened, he swept it all under the rug because he knew what Cyrus had been up to."

"Why didn't you tell me," Cassie asks, voice breaking.

"Because I had to protect them and now there's no one left to protect."

"You've still got me, Mama. You'll always have me." Mrs. Robinson rises from her chair in the same instant that Cassie stands, the pair hugging each other as tightly as they can. It's like they're trying to keep each other grounded, keep each other in the present.

Elizabeth meets Dean's gaze, nodding towards the front door. Dean nods, the first to rise with Sam and Elizabeth following him out to the car. There's still no phantom truck to be found, which is a relief considering her only weapon at the moment is the half-empty coffee mug.

"You know," Sam sighs," my life used to be so simple before you two tricked me into coming back. All I had to worry about was passing my exams and not forgetting the twice weekly call to let Lilly know I'm still alive."

"We saved you from having to write papers on polycentric cultural norms," Elizabeth reminds him. "Also, we saved my neighbors from hearing random movie speeches during finals week."

"I liked it when you did the one from Independence Day." She hops up onto the Impala's hood, stretching her legs out in front of her and crossing her ankles before letting them fall back against the tire.

"So, this killer truck," Dean starts.

"I miss conversations that didn't start with this killer truck."

"At least this one hasn't tried to run us over yet." Dean pauses, turning to pat his baby's windshield as though to convince himself it's still alright after the ghost possession and Sam driving it into a house. "So, you guys think the truck got infected by all the evil after Cyrus was killed?"

"Sounds about right," Elizabeth shrugs.

"And we're all in agreement that the destruction of his house is what woke him up?"

"Yep."

"Cool. Now, how the hell are we supposed to keep the Robinsons safe when the truck has decided to go on a fieldtrip to their house rather than sticking to the highway?"

"You know how." Elizabeth's really not looking forward to dragging a whole ass truck out of a swamp. Regular bodies in regular graves smell bad enough, but how is a body that's been stuck in a truck in a swamp going to smell?

"Yeah, but it's really gonna suck." They all glance to the left when they hear the front door close, spotting Cassie as she makes her way towards them. She looks surprisingly at ease considering everything that's happened so far. Elizabeth is kind of jealous, actually. "Hey."

"Hey," she echoes. "Mom's asleep and I'm too wired to join her, so what are we planning?" And there's the edge of holy-fuck-ghosts-are-real that Elizabeth's been looking for.

"You stay put to look after your mom and we'll be back as soon as we destroy that fucking truck. Don't leave the house."

"You do realize you're not the dominant one in this relationship, right?" Cassie sends Elizabeth an amused smile that only widens when Sam pretends to gag in the background. "I think that falls to me and Liza." Elizabeth slides to her feet, moving over to the pair so she can wrap an arm around Cassie's waist.

"She's right, Dean," Elizabeth confirms. "You act all big and bad, but I know your knees go weak when someone tells you how things are gonna go." Dean manages a smile, though it's a bit wobbly as the women each reach out for him without losing contact with each other.

"You guys know I'm still here, right," Sam asks, waving a hand over his head. "I'd really rather not have to pour bleach in my eyes." Elizabeth snorts out a laugh, dropping her head onto Cassie's shoulder. "Come on, guys. I'd rather be pulling a dead dude out of a swamp than watching your failed threesome."

"Yeah, our threesomes have never been well coordinated."

"Remember that time Dean got a concussion," Cassie asks. "We took him to the hospital and he was bright red when we explained what had happened to the doctor." Dean arches a brow and she gives in with a nod. "Fine, I'll stay in the house."

"Thank you," he murmurs. She draws him down into a kiss, a slow thing that speaks of comfort and those months spent in sunlight and far away from monsters. Dean's the first to pull away, he and Sam getting in the car while Cassie turns to face Elizabeth.

"Be careful, Liza."

"Always am," she says. Elizabeth isn't sure who initiates this kiss, just that suddenly their lips are pressed together and she's transported back to a summer afternoon when it was just the two of them and a book of poetry. Now doubt, now pain come never again, for her soul gives me sigh for sigh. "See you soon, babe."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise." She presses a chaste kiss to Cassie's lips before joining the guys in the car. "Alright, y'all, let's go kill this bastard so I can see if Cassie's as good in bed as I remember."

They end up using a bulldozer to get the truck out of the swamp, Dean steering while Sam and Elizabeth shout directions. They don't tell him to stop until the truck is on level ground, covered in slime and sphagnum moss.

"Get the gas and salt," Dean orders, climbing down out of the bulldozer. Sam and Elizabeth gather what they need before joining Dean near the truck, all of them taking a moment to really study it. The paint has faded to a dull gray color, parts of the truck rusted away and one of the windows missing entirely. "We ready?"

"Are we ever," Elizabeth asks.

"Sometimes we are," Sam says. "You know, when we can get a full eight hours of sleep."

"I wish that wasn't so rare these days," Dean grunts. The door opens easily, the smell of decay and stagnant water hitting them square in the face. "Man, this smells so much worse than I thought it would."

"Let's just get it over with." They work together, pulling the body out and carefully transporting it over to a wooden pallet. Elizabeth retraces their path with a flashlight to make sure they haven't lost any pieces, then rejoins them as the boys finish dousing the body in gasoline and salt.

"Liza, you wanna do the honors?" She takes the zippo from Dean, setting the flame against the kindling they've piled on and around the bones. It burns slow at first, then the flames catch on the gas and engulfs the entire pallet. "Think it worked?"

As if in answer to his question, an engine revs thirty feet away from them, high beams illuminating their surroundings and revealing a truck that shouldn't still exist. The paint on this truck is still glossy and new, the windows intact and missing the sheen of moss.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that it didn't," Elizabeth remarks. "Did we seriously do all of this for nothing?"

"Well, we pissed him off, so that's something."

"But we burned the damn body," Sam says.

"Apparently he's fused with his truck." Dean backs up a couple of steps towards the Impala. "You figure out how to burn that truck while Liza and I lead him away." He tosses Sam the duffle filled with weapons and then climbs into the car, Elizabeth following after him.

"Ghosts aside, it's really weird being in the front seat," she says as the engine rumbles to life and Dean peals away from the swamp.

"I know, I keep expecting your voice to come from behind me instead of beside me."

"We probably shouldn't turn the radio on right now, huh?"

"Best not to." She turns to look out the back, spotting the monstrous truck racing after them. It rides their ass as they navigate the back roads, trying to stay out of town to avoid getting an innocent bystander run over. It's a difficult task as a heavy fog starts to roll in, obscuring everything except the twin beams of light behind them. "Call Sam and see what the hell's going on."

"Yes, sir."

"Call me sir later, but right now I've got to focus." She winks over at him as she digs her phone out of her pocket, dialing Sam's number.

"I need a minute," Sam says by way of greeting.

"You've already had five of the damn things, Sammy," she says. "This dude's right on our ass and we're running out of back roads." She can hear pages being flipped, Sam swearing before he comes back.

"Let me get back to you." The line goes dead and she finds herself staring at the phone in shock.

"That little asshole hung up on me."

"So get your revenge later. Did he say what we should be doing?"

"He said he'd get back to us." Dean grumbles under his breath, something about hair clippers and duct tape. Her phone rings a moment later and she picks it up so quickly that she nearly drops it into the footwell. "You hung up on me, you asshole!"

"Yeah, but now I got a plan. Where are you guys?"

"In the middle of friggin' nowhere with a killer truck trying to eat our bumper!" The headlights cut through the fog to reveal a street sign, an old fashioned thing made of wood and white paint. "Decatur Road!"

"Headed east?"

"Well, gee, Sammy, let me just grab my compass and found out. Are we headed east, Dean?" He gives a sharp nod, pressing harder on the gas pedal. "Yeah, we're headed east. What the fuck are we supposed to do?" The truck rams into the Impala, making the car fishtail as Elizabeth slams against the dash. "Son of a whore!"

"Turn right up ahead."

"Turn right." The turn is sharp and leaves the smell of burning rubber in the air, but they make it.

"Turn left on the next road."

"Turn left."

"Turn left," Dean asks, incredulous.

"Turn left!" He slams on the breaks to let the truck fly past and then makes the turn as Elizabeth decides that she likes the backseat a whole lot more than the fucking dashboard. "Now what, Sammy?"

"Go exactly seven-tenths of a mile and stop," Sam instructs. She relays the information to Dean, feeling her heart climb its way into her throat as Dean passes an old brick foundation near the burnt church, doing a one-eighty so that he's facing the way they'd come.

"Now what?"

"Now you wait while it comes to you."

"Sammy, if I die because of this stupid ass plan, I'm gonna haunt you so hard." The truck appears at the far end of the road, engine rumbling as it speeds forward towards them. "Oh, holy shit!" She drops the phone as she presses back into her seat, one hand reaching out to cover Dean's on the steering wheel.

The truck is half a foot from the car when the outline of an old gate appears, sending the truck flipping and rolling over the car with the crunch of busted metal. The fog rolls with the truck, disappearing after a few seconds along with the sound of the motor.

"Are we still alive," Dean asks, looking around.

"Uh-huh."

"I almost peed myself." He picks up Elizabeth's dropped phone, putting it on speaker. "Where'd that thing go?"

"You're where that church was," Sam says, like that's the answer to anything. "The one that Cyrus burned down. Church might be gone, but it's still hallowed ground. Evil spirits sometimes get destroyed when they come onto hallowed ground, so I figured it was worth a shot."

"What if you were wrong?"

"Guess it's a good thing I wasn't." Dean snaps the phone shut, looking over at Elizabeth in shock. She shakes her head, snatching the phone back and crawling into the backseat.

"I'm so done with possessed cars," she groans.

Come down off your throne and leave your body alone/Somebody must change/You are the reason I've been waiting all these years/Somebody holds the key

"Now doubt, now pain come never again, for her soul gives me sigh for sigh." Eulalie, Edgar Allan Poe