"So, ideas on how to get that nice family out of their house in the middle of the night," Dean says, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He looks around when no one says anything, raising his brows. "Anything?"
"Gas leak," Sam suggests.
"When has that ever worked for us?"
"Never." Both boys turn to look back at Elizabeth, who is busy applying a fresh coat of polish to her nails. "Really, Liza? Do you think now is the time for that?" She doesn't glance up from her task, even smiles a little when the gold glitter in the pink polish catches the street light.
"If I can't spoil myself while hunting a demon, then when can I do it," she asks. Sam has no answer for that, slumping down in the front seat. The truth is that she spends more time hunting than anything else these days, so she's determined to at least keep her nails looking nice. "Anyone want me to paint their nails, too?"
"Maybe later," Dean murmurs. His gaze is focused back on Monica's house the same way it's been for the past ten minutes. The lights of the house cast a soft glow over the lawn, dark shadows moving past the windows on occasion. Elizabeth spots Monica and Rosie for a brief instant, pacing and bouncing the baby to get her nice and sleepy.
"Dana used to walk for hours to calm Lilly down." Sam glances over at her, a frown turning his mouth down into something sad. There's no pity there, just old grief that's had time to heal. "I remember her complaining about how sore her feet were. I should've volunteered to help her out more."
"Dana's suicide wasn't your fault," Sam says quietly. "She was depressed, Liza, and there was nothing you could have done to snap her out of it. You can't force someone to be happy." Elizabeth sniffles and rolls her eyes, tossing the empty bottle of nail polish in the floorboard. "You know she loved you, right?"
"Yeah, I know."
"Let's make it through this and then we'll swing by Lawrence so you can visit her grave," Dean says. He's turned again at some point, half leaning over the seat to comb his fingers through Elizabeth's hair. "You can tell her all the dumb shit we've gotten into this year." She smiles at the thought even if she's not sure what she believes about the afterlife. Ghosts are real, sure, but is Heaven? She's not sold.
"Sounds good."
"This is weird," Sam says after a moment.
"What, us embracing our feelings?"
"Well, that and also that we're here after all these years. It doesn't seem real. Hell, it doesn't even feel like every other hunt we've been on." Elizabeth manages a weak laugh, thinking back to all the times they've staked out a house through the night. They'd done this exact thing back in Lawrence.
"We just gotta keep our heads up and do our job," Dean says, patting Sam's knee. "Same as always."
"Yeah, but this isn't like it usually is." Dean nods in agreement, looking out the window at the house. "Since we are embracing all our feelings tonight, I gotta thank you, man. You've always had my back even when nobody else did. I can always count on you, no matter what."
"You'll always have me, Sammy." He puts a hand over the seat so Elizabeth can hold it, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Both of you are stuck with me for life."
"I'm glad," Elizabeth says, scooting up to press a kiss against Dean's knuckles. Some of her polish has smudged onto his palm, but neither of them cares. "I love you boys even if y'all do tap dance on my last nerve." There's a murmur of laughter, but it's laced with nerves. "It's midnight."
"I'll give Dad a call and see if he made it." John's number is on speed dial, the line ringing a few times before switching over to voicemail. "That doesn't bode well."
"Maybe he doesn't have signal," Sam suggests. "Or maybe he's in the middle of the meeting and can't take the call." Dean scowls but doesn't respond with any maybes of his own. Elizabeth is about to throw out her own theory (alien abduction) when the radio flickers on, static spilling out of the speakers. "Now that doesn't bode well." Outside, the wind picks up with a sudden gust, blowing dead leaves across pristine yards and rustling tree limbs.
"Either the demon's here or we're about to be blown away to Oz," Elizabeth says, looking around with wide eyes.
"No train whistle means no twister." The lights of Monica's house flicker erratically, even the ones that had been flipped off earlier. "It's coming." The hunters scramble out of the car and up to the house, the front door swinging open under Dean's hand. Sam moves on quiet feet toward the living room, nearly getting his head taken off by a man with a bat.
"Get outta my house," he screams, swinging again and taking out a lamp. Dean leaps forward, grabbing the man's wrist and swinging him around to press him against the wall with his own bat.
"Mister Holt, we're here to help!"
"Charlie, is everything okay down there," Monica calls down the stairs.
"Get the baby," Charlie shouts, face going red in his panic.
"Go," Dean yells at them. "I got Charlie!" Elizabeth and Sam sprint through the house, taking the stairs two at a time and sliding into the nursery. Monica has been pinned to the ceiling, screaming and struggling to get down as a dark figure looms over Rosie's crib. At a glint of yellow eyes, Sam raises the Colt and fires, the bullet ripping through plaster and wood, but missing the demon entirely. It disappears in a cloud of dark smoke, leaving the scent of sulfur behind.
"Where did he go," Sam demands.
"How the hell do I know— Oh shit!" Monica falls from the ceiling, using Elizabeth as a landing pad. The women topple to the floor with twin grunts and groans, a deep ache spreading up Elizabeth's shoulder. Dean comes flying through the door, shoving Monica into Sam's arms when she stands and lunges for the crib.
"Get her out," he snaps. Between Sam and Elizabeth, they manage to haul Monica out of the house while Dean gets little Rosie. They tumble out on the lawn as the upper windows explode, glass shining on the grass and flames licking up the roof. Charlie is waiting for them outside and tries to lunge at them, but Monica catches his shirt and pulls him back.
"Charlie, don't, they saved us," she says, holding him in a white-knuckled grip. "They saved us. Someone was trying to take Rosie." Dean presses the baby into Monica's arms and steps back, lips pressed into a fine line to keep himself from crying. "Thank you."
"Our pleasure," Elizabeth says, massaging her shoulder. Overhead, appearing through the smoke and flames engulfing the nursery, a black silhouette of a man steps up, framed by jagged glass and wood. Sam starts forward, struggling hard against Dean and Elizabeth when they latch onto him.
"It's still in there," he growls, digging his elbow into Elizabeth's ribs. "Let me go! I have to kill it!"
"I already lost my sister, I'm not losing my brother!"
"We're not lettin' you kill yourself," Dean agrees, shoving Sam back. Azazel disappears after that and Sam collapses against them, shaking. "We'll get it, Sammy. We still have the Colt." They sit on the lawn until they hear sirens, then Elizabeth and Dean help Sam back to the car.
Back in the motel room, Elizabeth relaxes against the headboard with the half-melted baggie of ice pressed against her sore shoulder. It's not dislocated, but it's sore as hell and it'll be black and blue for weeks. Sam drops down next to her feet, wrapping his fingers loosely around one of her ankles. Dean paces like John had done hours ago, wearing the carpet down with his phone pressed to his ear.
"Come on, Dad, pick up the phone," he mumbles. When the call goes to voicemail again, he snaps the phone shut and shoves it into his jeans pocket. "Something's wrong." Sam doesn't say anything, staring down at the hand lying limply against his thigh. "Did you hear me? Something's happened to Dad."
"I heard you," Sam rasps. He looks up at his brother, mouth twisted into something ugly. "If you two had let me go back inside, none of this would have happened. I could have ended this."
"All you would have ended is your life, Sammy. You really wanna sacrifice yourself and leave us to clean up the mess?" Dean storms over when Sam stands, getting right up in his face so he doesn't miss the rage and misery darkening his green eyes. "If hunting that demon means you get yourself killed, then I hope we never find the goddamn thing."
"That thing killed Jess and Mom."
"And there's not a fucking thing we can do to bring them back," Elizabeth snaps, glowering up at Sam. "What do you think killing yourself would accomplish? How would I explain to Lilly that her uncle got himself killed because of stubborn pride and not a damn thing else?"
"That's not—"
"The three of us here, in this room, is all we've got," Dean adds. "It's all I have, man, and it feels like I'm barely keeping it together. Without you two and Dad…." Dean's voice breaks and he finally looks away from his brother, missing the way Sam's expression softens into concern.
"Dad should have called by now. Try him again and put it on speaker." Dean nods, pulling his phone back out and dialing John's number. It rings three times before someone picks up, though it's not John that answers.
"You boys really screwed up this time," Meg says. "You're never gonna see your father again."