There's a medley of police cruisers parked outside the old Murdoch place, the array of lights seeming too bright in the gloom. Elizabeth is only half awake as she and the boys creep closer, ducking down behind the remains of a chicken wire fence that's long been overrun by weeds.

"I guess the cops don't want any more kids screwing around in there," Sam says.

"I'm pretty sure a possible corpse and another dead girl is enough to keep the kids away," Elizabeth murmurs. "Then again, teenagers are twisted. It's probably a good thing they've got the cops out here." Dean raises a brow at that and she shrugs. "Okay, so it sucks for us, but not for future idiot teens."

"Hey, do you hear something?" Elizabeth strains to make out anything beyond the cops pacing around, able to hear faint voices and breaking twigs. The hunters turn as one to gaze to their left where the knock-off Jason and Grant duo are currently coming out of the trees.

"I don't believe it," Dean mutters. "Alright, I got this." He raises up slightly and cups his hands around his mouth to better throw his voice. "Who ya gonna call?" He ducks back down in time for the cops on duty to snap around. They don't see the hunters, but they do see Ed and Harry. As the cops take off after the idiots, the hunters take their chance to get inside. The house had been somewhat creepy during the daytime, but it's a whole lot worse at night. She's pretty sure Satan would feel right at home in a place like this. Sam hands Dean the sawed-off, armed with his own gun while Elizabeth relies on her trusty-dusty pistol.

"Man, I swear I know that symbol," Dean says, pointing his flashlight at the upside-down question mark. "It's killing me."

"Yeah, and the ghost haunting this place is likely to kill me if we let our guard down," Elizabeth says, shoving him ahead of her. "Let's try to compartmentalize until this ghost has been busted." They head straight to the basement, somehow making it to the bottom without the stairs collapsing under their joint weight. She considers that their one miracle for this case.

"Jesus, it smells."

"The basement has been closed up since the Depression," Sam remarks. "What'd you expect? Roses?"

"Something a little better than moldy fruit." The basement is an open space with a dirt floor and stone walls, a breaker box set into the wall by the stairs. Elizabeth is tempted to flip a switch and see what happens, but she'd rather not be arrested if she can avoid it. "Gnarly."

"What?"

"Look at this." She turns and finds the boys staring at the shelves put up in the middle of the room, a few mason jars filled with colorful gunk that could be anything from old tomato juice to the blood of virgins. Dean brings down a jar of something pink, grinning over at his brother. "Hey, Sam, I dare you to drink this."

"And turn into a buff version of Shaggy? I think I'll pass." Dean doesn't lose his grin and even Elizabeth manages a smile despite the unholy lack of caffeine in her system. She shakes her head and moves past the shelves, looking around for anything weird beyond the tiny shards of glass littering the floor.

"I double dare you."

"You're such an idiot." Elizabeth is about to point out that they're both equally idiotic, but a scraping sound cuts her off. She turns on her heel with her pistol raised, finding nothing behind her except the stairs and an old cabinet. "Liza, on three." Sam nods at the cabinet and she gives a mock salute to show that she understands.

They move over to the cabinet on quiet feet, Elizabeth moving to the side of it with her eyes on the boys and her free hand wrapped around one of the knobs. The boys bring up their weapons, moving into the correct stances before Sam nods. One, two, three. She yanks the door open and raises her pistol, but all that accomplishes is scaring the family of rats that have been nesting in there for years.

"Ugh, I hate rats," Dean groans, skipping a little to keep the furry menaces off his shoes. Elizabeth's gaze follows the rats and catches on something that doesn't belong, an extra set of feet that lead all the way up to an ax-wielding maniac with red eyes.

"Sammy, do me a favor and duck super quick," she says, keeping her voice light. Sam doesn't question her, noticing the way her fingers have tightened around the pistol's grip. Elizabeth brings her gun up in the same instance that the spirit raises its ax, squeezing the trigger in a quick burst that sends three salt-filled bullets colliding with the ghost's chest. It takes two more shots to make the thing dissipate into black vapor.

"What the hell kinda ghost is immune to rock salt," Sam demands loudly.

"I don't know," Dean says, just as panicked as the other two. "All I know is that this guy gets off on killing girls, so let's get Liza outta here." Elizabeth is already halfway to the stairs that lead back into the house, jerking sideways when an invisible ax collides with the shelves and sends splinters of wood and glass scattering over the floor.

"Son of a bitch," she yells in surprise. The spirit appears again right in front of Sam, bringing the ax down in the same instant that Sam raises his shotgun to parry the blow. "Sammy!" Dean grabs an extra shell out of his coat pocket, working it open with his teeth and pouring it over the spirit's back.

"Run!" Sam ducks away from the ax and sprints up the stairs with the others hot on his heels. They don't even stop to grab the duffle, barreling through the front door and shouldering their way past the stammering ghost hunters lurking a few feet from the porch.

"Watch it, assholes," Ed shouts, glaring after them. Elizabeth raises the finger she's proudest off without looking back, too drained to do much else. If she runs into them tomorrow, she'll throw something at them. The hunters don't slow down until they reach the Impala, Elizabeth flopping over the hood with a loud groan.

"I really fucking hate running," she whines. "I chose the wrong career."

Elizabeth walks into the motel room late the next afternoon, loaded down with shopping bags and a new pair of sunglasses. She pauses in the doorway, outlined in winter sunlight and grinning. Sam and Dean barely even glance at her, though, and she's tempted to redo her entrance and make it more dramatic. Maybe play Kuzco's theme on her phone when she pushes the door open.

"Have fun shopping," Sam asks, studying a book that looks old as the hills. "Maybe buy a beanie of your own so I can have mine back?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." She plucks the beanie off her head and tosses it back to him, hitting him in the face with it. He barely reacts to it, grabbing it from his lap and setting it on top of his laptop.

"Thanks."

"You guys are no fun today."

"We've been doing research," Dean says, glaring down at motel stationary. "Are you sure this doesn't ring a few bells?" He holds up the notepad to reveal the upside-down question mark, he's traced over it so much that it's created a deep groove in the cheap paper.

"A couple, I guess. Nothing to do with ghosties." She drops down onto Sam's bed and begins going through the shopping bags. "I got new shoes." That does get their attention, Sam dropping the book to the table as they both turn to stare at her. "Oh, so now you two are interested."

"You never buy new shoes," Sam points out. "We had to throw away your ballet flats in fifth grade because they were falling apart and you still threw a tantrum." She shrugs, pulling out her new shoes with a grand flourish. The boys don't look nearly as impressed with the purple high tops as they should, but she puts that down to not having good taste.

"Dammit, they're cute."

"Yes, they are," Dean agrees amiably. "And you have wonderful taste, Liza, but we're kind of in the middle of something here." She scowls but drops the conversation about her shoes. "Now, the legend stated that Mordechai only went after chicks. That explains why he went after you and Sam, but why me?"

"And what about that ax," Sam adds. "Legend said that he hanged his victims. It also said he hung himself, but he had slit wrists." Elizabeth leans back on the bed, pulling her Kindle over to her. "You looking up the site?"

"Yup," she nods. It's fairly typical, a plain layout with a dark background, the tabs neatly located on the side beneath the picture of a slobbering hellhound. She clicks on the Mordechai haunting and skims over the first couple of paragraphs, brows scrunching together. "Uh, guys, someone added to the story."

"What?"

"Yeah, it's saying Mordechai was actually a Satanist that cut up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. I mean, that fits with what we saw last night, but what about the girl the night before that? She was strung up in the basement just like in the original myth."

"This makes no sense." Sam runs his fingers through his hair, glaring down at the book still in his lap. It's old enough that the binding is loose, coming away from the yellowed pages whenever it's opened. It needs some serious TLC, but she doubts it'll be getting that anytime soon. "This ghost is schizophrenic."

"I don't know about the ghost, but I think I know how all this got started," Dean states, sitting bolt upright. "We need to talk to Craig again." He's up and moving before Sam can even set the book aside, not waiting on them as he heads for the car.

"What do you think that was about?"

"Come on, slowpokes! I know where I've seen that damn symbol!"

"I guess that's what this is about," Elizabeth sighs. She trades out her flip flops for the Converse before following Sam out of the room, rolling her eyes as Dean gestures impatiently inside the car. Were she a more spiteful person, she'd drag her feet deliberately. "It's a good thing you're cute or I'd go in slow motion."

"So it has nothing to do with you loving me?"

"Not at the moment." She's grinning even as she says it, leaning over the seat to kiss his cheek. Sam makes a sound of disgust, slouching in the front seat. Turns out that Elizabeth is just spiteful enough to drag the display out and watch Sam's cheeks heat up in a blush.

"Don't worry, Sammy, you'll find someone to smooch soon," Dean teases. He cackles at Sam's groan, starting the car and pulling out of the lot. There aren't many people at the motel, the numbers always seem to decrease as the weather gets colder. Elizabeth loves to travel during the winter, taking advantage of any discounts she can find and the occasional indoor pool.

"So why are we going to the music shop," Sam asks, desperately trying to change the topic.

"Just humor me." It's not a long drive to the shop, most of the streets clear since it's a school day. They get out of the car and head inside, Craig standing and moving away from the front desk when he hears the bell jingle. "Hey, Craig, remember us?" He freezes on the short set of stairs that leads to the pop music, his back still to them.

"I'm really not in the mood right now," he says, looking at them over his shoulder. There's no liveliness to be seen today, just a bleak depression that carves lines into his face that leave him looking far older than he is.

"No worries, just here to buy an album." Dean wanders over to the classic rock section, flipping through the albums until he finds the one he's looking for. The cover art is familiar and the symbol is plain to see on the back cover, all the pieces finally clicking into place.

"Are you fucking serious," Elizabeth mutters

"You know, that symbol was bugging the hell outta me," Dean says, the three of them moving to stand behind Craig. "And then I realized that it doesn't actually mean anything. It's the logo for Blue Öyster Cult. You must be a pretty big fan if you're spray painting the logo everywhere. Or maybe you're just into scaring the hell out of people."

"Give me that," Craig grumbles, snatching the album out of Dean's hand. He looks ashamed, pale and gaunt.

"Why don't you tell us the truth about that house this time? Try not lying through your teeth." Craig drops his chin against his chest, letting out a sigh like the weight of the world is crushing his shoulders. When he looks up at them again, there's no bullshit to be found.

"My cousin Dana was on break from TCU and we were bored one night. I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it'd be funny if we made it look like it was haunted, so we painted symbols on the walls—some from albums and others from Dana's theology textbooks. When we found out this guy Murdoch used to live there, we made up a story to go along with it."

"Dana dressed up as the dead chick and freaked out your friends."

"Yeah, and they told people who told other people and then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything took on a life of its own. I thought it was funny at first, it was just supposed to be a joke, but now that girl's dead." There are tears in Craig's eyes, but none of the hunters offer comfort. This is a hard lesson, but at least he's learned not to fuck around with the occult. Dean turns toward the door, leading the way out with Sam and Elizabeth right behind him.

"If this was all a joke, then how the hell do you explain Mordechai?"

"Maybe we just have really shitty luck," Elizabeth suggests.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard this theory enough. All those mirrors we broke, blah-blah-blah." He waves her off briskly, letting out a faint oof when she elbows his side. "Let's just head back to the room and do more research. Maybe take a minute to relax."

"I'm gonna go to that café down the road and get some grub. Everyone want their usual?" Dean and Sam both nod, far too trusting for their own good. "Coffees or something else?"

"Black coffee."

"Strawberry shake with extra whipped cream," Sam says. "I've earned it." He pats his stomach with something like pride shining in his eyes and Elizabeth rolls her eyes. Dude does three push-ups and lets his metabolism do all the rest. "Don't forget to ask for a cherry, too."

"Yeah, Samsquatch," she mutters," I know." They head to the car on the right while she goes across the street and left, walking quickly to get out of the sunlight. It makes her skin itch and she wishes she'd worn her coat. In her defense, though, her shirt has the bi pride flag on the front and she likes watching old people twitch in impotent rage.

"Welcome to the Boomerang Diner," a peppy waiter smiles as she walks inside. "Have a seat anywhere you like and someone will be right with you." Like all Boomerangs, this one has embraced Elvis in all his glory and she's always surprised not to find a life-sized cardboard cut-out of him. She wanders over to the bar, pocketing a few packets of salt for later use.

"Can I help you," a waitress says, coming over with a notepad handy.

"Yeah, three burger baskets with everything and cheese, one black coffee, one coffee with cream and sugar, and a large strawberry shake with extra whipped cream and a cherry. All to-go." The waitress nods, ripping the ticket from the pad and handing it to the cook.

"Alrighty, we'll get that right out for you." She walks off for another customer and Elizabeth pulls her Kindle out to study some of the pictures that have been posted on the hellhounds site. They're all pretty typical, most of them drawn too wrong to actually be effective, but there's one…. It rings a bell.

"Oh, holy shit…." She scrambles to pull her cell phone out, hitting speed dial and waiting impatiently for the other person to pick up.

"This had better be good," Bobby grumbles on the other end. "Tori Spelling is on."

"Tulpas can be summoned by a symbol that looks like a T got very drunk, right? It's got a line over the top." There's a moment of quiet, the rustling of pages being flipped by impatient fingers itching to get back to bad cable TV, and then Bobby's talking again.

"Yeah, drunk T. Why, do you have one you're after or are you just trying to summon Josh Hartnett again?" She scowls and slumps on the stool, propping her chin up with her fist. "Don't you remember how it ended the last time? He tried to turn you into mincemeat and I had to put him down. I still got the fella buried out back."

"It's the first one, Uncle B. I've learned my lesson."

"Then why did I have to bury the fake Tiffani Thiessen two weeks after fake Josh?"

"Because I was a horny sixteen year old with access to the occult. Just be happy I stopped after those two." Bobby snorts and the sound makes her scowl transform into a content smile. "Have you talked to Lily lately?"

"I haven't, but I did talk to Darren. Our beloved tyrant got into a fight at school yesterday and now she's grounded. Some boy tried to yank a jump rope out of her hand, so she punched his solar plexus and got very confused when she was escorted to the principal's office."

"That's my girl."

"That's what I said, but apparently that wasn't the correct response to her getting a two-week suspension. Now she can't use the phone or watch TV, all she has is her schoolwork and a few of her favorite books to read."

"I would've given her a high-five and taken her to get a sundae as big as her head." In fact, that's exactly what Bobby and John had done each time one of the kids had defended themselves on the playground. Those were rare times they could get John to smile or Bobby away from his liquor cabinet, so they'd considered it a win-win scenario.

The waitress comes over and sets the order on the bar in front of Elizabeth, sliding the ticket under Sam's shake. Elizabeth mouths a thank you and hands over the necessary cash plus a decent tip before grabbing everything and heading back towards the motel.

"Alright," she says," I'll get off here and let you go back to garbage television."

"Did I judge you when you watched Saved by the Bell religiously, Liza?" She can hear the smile in his voice and laughs as the call disconnects. She kicks the motel door until Dean swings it open for her, bringing a finger up to his lips. She rolls her eyes and moves past him to the little table across from the door, setting the food and drink carrier down before turning to face her boyfriend.

"Seriously?" Dean grins as he dumps a packet of itching powder over Sam's clothes, snickering like a little boy. "God, you're such a child."

"Yeah, but you love me," he says, sidling up to her. He wraps an arm around Elizabeth's waist, pulling her close so he can press a kiss to her forehead.

"Put that itching powder anywhere near me or my things and I'll make sure you don't get laid for a month." He pouts at that, dropping the packet into the trashcan by their bed. "I found out what we're probably dealing with by the way." She pulls the site up again and shows Dean the symbol. "It's a Tulpa."

"Oh, like that thing you summoned that ended up looking like Gretchen Wilson?" She scowls and nods, making a mental note to keep Gretchen Wilson out of future conversations around Bobby. The last thing she needs is for him to realize she'd tried the ritual three times rather than just the two.

"Yeah." The shower shuts off and Sam comes out with a towel around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his hair. Elizabeth wolf whistles and laughs when he jerks around, one hand clinging desperately to the towel. "Hey, stud, you free for an hour?"

"You're so funny," he snarks. "I don't know how we get by without you."

"Face it, Sammy, your lives would be boring without my sense of humor. Now, go get your clothes on before I give your shake to Dean." He snatches his clothes up off the bed and disappears back into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. "You know, we're gonna have to have a conversation about your trust issues someday!"

"Bite me, Mayson!"

"Don't give me any ideas, Winchester!" She grins as she settles down on her bed, pulling her burger out and taking a huge bite from it with a blissful moan. "Boomerang burgers are better than sex."

"Thanks for the confidence booster," Dean says, dropping down beside her. He takes a swig of coffee and then makes a face. "Hey, does your coffee taste weird?" She takes a drink of her own, fighting a smile.

"Nope."

"Mine tastes a little funky. I can't place it, though." Elizabeth shrugs, keeping her expression disinterested. Dean sets the cup aside and moves on to his burger, managing to get half of it eaten before Sam joins them.

"Amazing," Sam says. "It's like watching a shop vac in human form." Dean flips him off, but the effect is somewhat lacking when he has mustard smeared over his chin. Sam doesn't make a face as he digs into his shake and Elizabeth makes a quick note about not mixing salt into milkshakes. There's no satisfaction.

"While you two were pampering yourselves, I found out what we're dealing with," Elizabeth says smugly.

"It's a Tulpa."

"Dammit, Sammy, let me have this!" He snorts, but his amusement fades as he begins to shift uncomfortably on the bed. She doesn't smile, but it's a close thing. "Anyway, yes, it's a Tulpa. One of the symbols on the wall is the Tibetan spirit sigil."

"The drunk T?"

"That's the one. Uncle Bobby confirmed it for me while I was waiting on our food. I figure if enough people visit the site and read the legend, then they can bring it to life."

"That explains why Mordechai changed MO," Dean says. He takes another drink of his coffee without thinking and pulls a face. "Ugh, coffee in this town blows." He drops the cup into the trashcan between the beds, the cup hiding the empty packet of itching powder. "Okay, so we just get the sigil thing off the wall and the website, easy-peasy."

"Except the Tulpa's already been wished into existence. The sigil isn't keeping it alive now." Sam shifts again, setting his shake aside to adjust his jeans. "And those two idiots posted a video of Mordechai coming after them, so the number of visitors to the site has doubled."

"I've got an idea. Come on."

"What? But my food—"

"I'll buy you something later. We need a copy store and then we're paying a visit to Ed and Harry." Elizabeth scowls, but follows him out to the car with her burger in hand. If he thinks some life or death mission is going to stop her from eating, then he's sorely mistaken. Sam joins them a moment later, wearing new clothes and throwing the coffee-stained itching powder packet at Dean's head. He doesn't bitch about it, but the narrowing of his eyes promises vengeance. Elizabeth grins as Dean turns up the radio and pays his brother no attention all the way to the copy store. Once they get there, it's easy to forge a death certificate for one Mordechai Murdoch. Elizabeth's pretty proud of her work if she's being honest.

"Do you really think they'll buy this," Sam asks skeptically. He's eyeing the certificate in his brother's hands and Elizabeth admits she could have done a better job, but they didn't have time for all of that. Besides, it doesn't exactly have to look authentic.

"These guys are idiots," Dean says, and that's that. It doesn't take long to find the amateur ghostbusters, a simple trailer with a couple plastic flamingos out front and stickers decorating the steel door. How two grown men could stand to be so close to each other in that tiny trailer Elizabeth will never know. She gets antsy if she spends too long in a motel room with Dean and motel rooms are much more spacious.

"What would Buffy do," one of the nerds in question is asking. It sounds almost like a mantra, but all Elizabeth can picture is Sarah Michelle Gellar in go-go boots as she traverses Spooky Island. Mmm, Daphne. "But, Ed, she's stronger than me." Dean rolls his eyes and starts banging on the trailer door with his fist. "Who is it?"

"It's Elvis," Dean calls. "Get out here, you dorks!" There's a shuffling that has the trailer moving on its blocks, and then Ed and Harry are stumbling out into the late afternoon sunlight. Elizabeth had been smart this time, her sunglasses keeping her eyes from hurting too bad. "Look at that, they got action figures in their original packaging."

"So does Uncle B," Elizabeth points out.

"Difference is that Bobby could whoop their asses without breaking a sweat." Which is true, she once saw him use one of those action figures to pummel a Djinn so that Elizabeth and Dana could sneak out the back and alert John.

"Look, we're busy right now," Ed says as they step out of the trailer. "We don't have time to be bullied."

"Then I'll make this quick. Shut down your website." Ed gives a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. He turns to look at Harry, sharing a commiserating expression before looking to the hunters again.

"You guys got us busted last night and we had to sleep in a holding cell."

"I had to pee in front of people, and I get stage fright," Harry adds sourly. Between holding cells and having a niece with no sense of personal space, Elizabeth has long grown used to not being alone when she pees. She's made peace with that.

"Why would we do a damn thing any of you says?"

"Because I didn't throw something at your heads back at that house and I totally could have," Elizabeth says. Sam scowls and his elbow is sharp when it connects with her ribs, knocking her against Dean.

"We all know what we saw last night, what's in the house," Sam says, voice slightly more sympathetic. "Thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai and wanting to find out for themselves if he's real. If more people get hurt or even die there, the cops are gonna start investigating and that'll lead them right to this trailer."

"People would eventually find that house anyway," Ed states. "We have an obligation to tell the truth on our site."

"Well, my obligation is to bitch slap you two little girls," Dean starts, but Sam cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder.

"It's no use, Dean," he says. "These guys are too stubborn for their own good. They wouldn't even shut the website down if I told them that little thing about Mordechai." Elizabeth had protested this script vigorously on the way here and the words still sound fake when Sam puts them out into the world. She should have kept protesting even after he sat on her.

"You're right, Sammy," Elizabeth says, ignoring the way Ed and Harry's eyes light up. "Let's just go catch some shut-eye and then head out. There's no use sticking around." Ed and Harry chase the hunters back to the Impala, stumbling over their words and not noticing the smug little twitch of Sam's lips.

"What thing about Mordechai," Harry asks, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"Just tell 'em, Sam," Dean instructs.

"What's the point if they don't agree to shut down their website," Sam asks. He really needs to attend some kind of theater class because this is just pitiful. Behind them, Ed and Harry are swearing to anything and everything if it means letting the secret slip out. If they're really falling for this crap, then they're dumber than they look.

"It's a secret, Sam."

"He's right." They come to a stop at the Impala and turn to face Ed and Harry. "It was really hard to find in the library basement and we had to make a copy of it because we were afraid the paper would turn to dust in a stiff wind. You can only see it if you promise to shut everything down."

"Totally," Ed lies. Dean pulls the crisp paper out of his jacket pocket, handing it over for Ed and Harry to look at.

"It's a death certificate from the thirties. According to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound."

"He didn't hang or cut himself," Dean adds. He looks just as done with this script as Elizabeth. "Turns out he couldn't stand the thought of leaving his girls without food, so he shot himself to make what little they had last longer."

"He used a .45 pistol to do the job. Legend says that he's still terrified of them."

"I heard that if you shoot him with a .45 loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, you can kill the son of a bitch." I hear he does car commercials in Japan. Sam glances over at Elizabeth raising his brows expectantly. When she doesn't say anything, his elbow is introducing itself to her ribs again and she gives the ghost hunters a forced smile.

"They also say that his daughters were blonde and short, so he tries his damnedest to protect anyone who matches that description. I'm not sure how much truth there is in that, but it sure does explain how I got out of the house without so much as a scratch." Ed folds the fake certificate up as Harry sprints back to the trailer, Ed doing his best to appear unexcited at the news. Once they're out of sight, Elizabeth brings her foot down hard on Sam's.

"Ow, what was that for," he snaps.

"You elbow me one more time today and I'm cutting them off."

"Alright, you two, knock it off," Dean says, stepping between the pair of them. "Y'all can argue all you want once we leave this shithole town. For now, let's get some rest and then hit up a diner. Preferably one that doesn't fuck up our drinks."

They head back to the motel, Sam obsessively refreshing the hellhounds site while Elizabeth and Dean take a nap. It's close to seven when Sam shakes them awake and ushers them into a shower, complaining about something that Elizabeth's not awake enough to understand. If it's important, she'll decipher it while Dean is washing her back.

"Think they got a Cracker Barrel around here," Dean asks, eyes closed as Elizabeth works shampoo through his hair. "I'd kill for some meatloaf and mashed potatoes." She hums, not sharing the sentiment. She's not a fan of Cracker Barrel, never really has been, but she'd give her right foot for a steak.

"Do you think those bozos added our tidbit to their website?"

"I'm sure they did. We'll eat some dinner and then we'll shoot that Tulpa."

"And then what?" Dean pulls her flush against him once the soap has been rinsed down the drain, nosing along her jaw until his teeth are nibbling at her ear. Elizabeth lets out a low moan of appreciation, fingers playing with the fine hairs along the nape of Dean's neck. "I like the way you think."

"You'll love the way I mo—"

"No shower sex," Sam hollers through the door. "I'm starving and I want a drink that isn't as salty as Elizabeth's personality!" The moment is ruined and Elizabeth belts out a laugh, her forehead thumping against Dean's chest. "Come on!" They make quick work of getting dried and dressed, then make even quicker work of finding the closest thing to a Cracker Barrel. When Sam ducks out to find a bathroom, Elizabeth grabs the salt shaker and sets to work on his beer. Dean raises his brows, realization smacking him in the face.

"Oh, what the fuck did we ever do to you?"

"You two bug me," Elizabeth shrugs. "If I don't work out my frustrations in small way, then I'll snap and murder you both with an ax." She says all this with a pleasant smile and the contrast seems to throw Dean for a loop. After a moment, he lets out a low chuckle and presses a kiss to her lips.

"You're so devious, Liza."

"I was raised to be spiteful." Sam comes back right as their food is being set down, picking at his steak and refreshing the hellhounds site. Dean scoots out of the booth and heads to the bathroom next, his back to them when Sam grabs Dean's beer bottle and runs some superglue over it. "Really?"

"You gonna tattle," Sam asks.

"Of course not." Dean comes back after a moment, sitting beside her again with an arm resting on the back of the booth. His fingers are brushing lightly at the loose ends of her hair, both of them watching Sam sip at his doctored beer. It's almost funny, he doesn't push his drink away when it's obviously too salty to drink. She hadn't been subtle with it this time, the shaker is half empty. "Amazing. He doesn't even notice."

"Watch this," Dean whispers. He keeps an eye on Sam, reaching out with one hand to pull the chain on a wall decoration. The fisherman lets out an obnoxious laugh, wooden mouth moving up and down until Sam reaches out to pull the chain and make it stop.

"Pull that string one more time and you'll have to have it surgically removed," Sam warns. He hasn't even put his hand back on the table before Dean's pulling the string again and cackling. She's partly surprised when Sam doesn't yank the fisherman down with the force he puts behind shutting it up.

"You need to relax before you stroke out, man."

"I'll relax when this case is over."

"No, you won't," Elizabeth snorts. "You'll find a new case to obsess over and that stick in your ass will grow another inch." He scowls at her over his laptop, but the look is as frightening as a bunny's. "Have they posted anything yet?" Sam refreshes the page once more, then turns with a faint smile of vindication.

"We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdoch has a fatal fear of firearms," Dean reads. "Cool. How long should we wait before we blast his ass to Kingdom Come?" Sam closes the laptop and pushes it away from him as far as the table will allow.

"Long enough for the new story to spread and the legend to change. Maybe around midnight?"

"Sounds good." They all clink their bottles together, Sam and Elizabeth unable to fight back their smiles when Dean realizes his hand is stuck. He struggles for a minute, but his fingers aren't budging and he sends Sam an unamused stare. "You didn't." Sam holds up the small tube of glue with a cheeky grin.

"I did." His smile vanishes when he gulps down half of his beer, expression twisting into disgust. His gaze falls on Elizabeth, total disbelief and betrayal. She takes a picture of it for future blackmail purposes.

It's surprisingly easy to lure the duty cops away from the house using only the fisherman Elizabeth had yanked off the restaurant wall in a fit of annoyance. As Barney and Andy go to investigate, the hunters sneak into the house with their pistols raised and a wrought-iron round in the chamber.

"Man," Dean groans quietly," my hand's still stinging."

"I told you to use paint thinner instead of brute strength," Elizabeth sing-songs. Dean scowls over at her and she gives him a smirk in return. She loves being right, it's better than most drugs. "Y'all think Mordechai's still in the basement?"

"Best guess," Ed says. The hunters turn in unison and the ghost hunters jump back when they spot the pistols, Ed nearly toppling backward. "What the fuck?"

"Do you two have a death wish or something?"

"Don't be stupid, we just want a book and movie deal outta this." Elizabeth is ready to give them a tongue lashing that will leave them emotionally scarred for ten years, but a scraping noise starts up right as she opens her mouth. "Wow, is that him?"

"That sounded an awful lot like an ax on concrete." They all turn to face the basement door, guns brought up again and ready. The next ten seconds seem to stretch out into eternity, then the basement door is slamming against the wall and Mordechai comes charging out with his ax raised above his head and a growl echoing off old stone walls. The hunters empty their magazines into Mordechai's chest, each round bare phasing him until he disappears into a puff of black smoke. Dean nods to Sam and Elizabeth, reloading and moving out of the kitchen while Sam stars towards the basement and Elizabeth holds her position. Behind her, Ed and Harry are fumbling with a camcorder.

"That was wild!"

"Would you dorks shut up?" Elizabeth turns with that tongue lashing still ready to spew out right as Mordechai appears on her left, bringing his ax down against the camcorder and sending the geek squad stumbling back a few feet. He disappears again before Elizabeth can shoot, Dean and Sam running back into the kitchen.

"Didn't you guys post that bullshit story we gave you," Dean asks.

"Yeah," Harry nods. "The server crashed, though. Wiped out the update."

"So these guns don't work?"

"Yeah." Ed looks dazed, staring around like he's just waiting on the next attack. Harry, on the other hand, is smarter and decides to get the hell out while the getting's good. "You guys have fun, we're done." He gets two steps before realizing Ed isn't following, letting out a low growl and dragging his friend out of the house with him. They're not out of the room long before they start to scream again.

"Lead him away so those idiots can get out."

"On it," Sam nods. He and Elizabeth follow the sound of screaming, stopping at the beginning of a short hall. "Hey!" Mordechai turns to face them, bone-white face practically glowing in the darkness. "Come get us, you ugly son of a bitch!" Mordechai swings, the ax burying into the wood wall an inch shy of Sam's head.

"I thought you were trying to kill us," Elizabeth taunts. "If you wanted to play limbo, then you should'a asked." He swings again, Sam catching the ax handle and letting himself get pinned to the wall.

"Get out!" Ed and Harry rush out while Elizabeth digs out the extra packets of salt from her pocket. She rips them open with her teeth and dumps the contents over Mordechai's back, forcing him to dissipate again with a pained howl. "Come on!" Sam grabs her wrist and tugs her with him back to the living room where Dean is pouring gas over anything flammable.

"Need a little help?"

"Ask me that when we're back in the motel," Dean says with a wink. Sam groans his disgust, but saves any comments for later. Dean and Elizabeth share a grin before the three of them back out of the house, leaving a trail of gas behind them. Once they're off the porch, Dean lights a match and tosses it onto the porch. The fire catches easily, the house lighting up with a loud whump.

"What if this just lets him roam around outside the house," Sam asks.

"Then I guess we'll come back." Sam shakes his head in disbelief, all of them watching as Mordechai pauses just inside the front door. He's got his ax in his hands, ready to strike if any of them come close enough.

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Of all the things we've hunted, how many existed just because people believed in them?"

"I don't even wanna think about that right now," Elizabeth says. "I'm tired, I've got cobwebs in my hair, and a migraine the size of Texas. I say we grab some coffee and sleep and then go pay Lily a visit." The brothers share a glance and a smile over her head, but she doesn't notice it as she heads back to the Impala.

Elizabeth's disgusted expression the next morning when she takes a sip of a Frappuccino laced with salt is Sam's wallpaper for a month.

Now you're on your knees/With your head hung low/Big man tells you where to go/Tell 'em it's good/Tell 'em okay/Don't do a goddamn thing they say