Bobby's waiting for them on the porch when the Impala's headlights wash over the house, outlining him in gold and highlighting the gray streaks in his beard. To anyone else, he'd look cool as a cucumber, but Elizabeth knows him better than she knows herself and can see the worry in the rigid line of his shoulders.
"I've got some books in the living room for ya to look through, Sammy," Bobby says when they join him on the porch. "Different ways of trapping demons and the like. I gotta say, though, you kids really stepped in it this time."
"What do you mean," Dean asks.
"I mean that I usually only hear about three or four demonic possessions in a year, but I've heard of about twenty-seven this year alone. Things are ramping up and I think it has something to do with old Yellow Eyes. There's a storm coming and you kids and John are smack in the middle of it. Needless to say, I don't approve."
"Wonderful," Elizabeth sighs. "Is the kitchen table cleared off? I'm gonna try one of our tracking spells and see if I can't find John."
"Have at it, Cinderella." He pulls her into a quick hug before allowing her to go inside, his gaze a firm weight between her shoulder blades. He worries about her just like she worries about him, a mutual sort of paranoia that neither can shake. The kitchen is just as cluttered as the rest of the house, but Elizabeth knows what she's looking for without having to stop and think.
"I need a map!"
"Which one?"
"Nebraska." Bobby and Dean come in, Dean spreading the map out over an old coffee stain and a puddle of melted crayon. Elizabeth grabs a pendant from the silverware drawer and holds it straight over the map, letting out a slow breath to calm the erratic beating of her heart.
"What are you doing," Dean asks, stepping up beside her.
"My best." She murmurs the spell in a whisper, the familiar words rolling off her tongue without a hiccup. She's used this spell so many times that it's second nature to her now, even more so than shooting. The pendant sways in gentle circles and then points toward Lincoln's general direction.
"We already knew he was in Lincoln."
"Shut up." She repeats the spell and the pendant swings away from the map, following a road and then clear off the table. "I don't think John's in Nebraska anymore. I think they're moving him." Outside, Rumsfeld starts to bark a warning, Elizabeth and Bobby's heads snapping up at the sound. "That's not good."
"Rumsfeld doesn't bark unless there's trouble," Bobby clarifies. "Trained him to spot supernatural critters that don't belong here. Come on." They make it to the living room where Sam has staked a claim on a desk, then the front door is banging against the wall and Meg is striding inside like she owns the place.
"Funny, I thought our house was bitch-proof." Meg's offended sneer is truly a masterpiece, but Elizabeth doesn't get the chance to offer up more snark before she's flying through the air. She collides with the wall, her shoulder giving out with a faint pop when she lands. "I fucking hate demons."
"I'm not so impressed by you humans either," Meg says. Dean's hand drops to his pocket and, with a flick of Meg's wrist, he's landing on top of Elizabeth. "Why don't you do yourselves a favor and stay down?" Meg rounds on Bobby and Sam next, trailing after them as they slowly back through the house to the next room. "I want the Colt, Sam. The real Colt."
"Do villains always have to monologue," Dean asks, rolling off of Elizabeth. He helps her up, careful not to jostle her shoulder. "It's bad enough in Bond movies, but real life? It should be monologue-free."
"Did you really think I wouldn't find you?"
"We were counting on it, actually." Meg follows Dean's gaze to the ceiling, her nails curling against her palms when she finds herself directly under a devil's trap. When Elizabeth had been seven years old and super into fingerpainting, Bobby had propped a ladder up in the middle of his study, gave her a picture of said trap, and told her to have at it. She bets Meg never expected to be stuck in place by hot pink paint.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"It's not my best work," Elizabeth shrugs," but it's close enough for government work. You hold tight and I'll get you a chair." Bobby helps Elizabeth drag a chair and some rope in from the dining room, shoving Meg down into the chair and binding her wrists. "If you're real nice and answer our questions, I won't even put holy water in your sweet tea."
"I don't drink sweet tea."
"Fucking Yankees."
"Come on, Liza," Bobby says. "We got some work to do." She wrinkles her nose but follows Bobby back out of the study, pausing long enough to let him jerk her shoulder back into place. "You need a sling or a bucket?"
"Mm, neither," Elizabeth groans. Dislocations are a bitch, but she'll be damned if she pukes when there's a demon in the house. "Get me the salt and I'll get started on the windows down here."
"You got it." In a closet under the stairs, they find a couple canisters of rock salt and one of Elizabeth's old Barbies. Bobby raises a brow, but he kicks the doll aside and hands her one of the canisters. "I told you not to be playin' around in here."
"I was six, Bee."
"I don't care. You're lucky I didn't catch you or it would'a cost you a week of cartoons." She scowls, hauling the canister with her into the living room. It's slow going to get the doors and the windows covered, Bobby's house is bigger than it appears and there are several hidey-holes she has to hit. When she's finally done, she rejoins the others in the study.
"Where's our father, Meg," Dean asks, stepping up to the demon. She looks up at him past the fringe of her lashes, her smirk positively feral.
"You didn't ask very nice," she murmurs.
"Where's our father, bitch?" Her mouth falls open in a facsimile of surprised shock, but the expression doesn't look good on her. It'd be like if Elizabeth pretended she didn't like a good spanking every now and then.
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh, I forgot. Mommy dearest got torched, didn't she?" Elizabeth steps forward before Dean can do something he'll regret later, urging him back.
"Bobby, why don't you take the boys in the kitchen for some drinks," Elizabeth suggests. "They don't know much about demons and I'm sure they'd like some pointers." Truth is, Elizabeth doesn't know much about demons either but she can be a whole lot more vindictive than her boys realize.
"But—" Bobby cuts Sam off with a firm shake of his head. The boys reluctantly follow Bobby out of the room, leaving the two girls behind. Elizabeth turns slowly to face Meg, crossing her arms over her chest.
"That girl you're possessing, is she dead?"
"Not while I'm possessing her," Meg confirms. Elizabeth nods slowly, remembering the sound like breaking eggs after Meg had been tossed out a window. If they exorcise the demon, then the girl will be dead in minutes. The internal injuries alone would take her off the board before an ambulance could get here.
"Why don't you tell me where you're holding John and I won't exorcise you right away." Meg scoffs and looks away, eyes drifting to the window with its busted shade. "Come on, Meg, don't be like that. I know you're not shy."
"I'm not interested in you, babe. Chosen make for boring playmates, they don't break like humans do."
"I could always toss a few pints of holy water on you."
"You'd really risk hurting the poor girl I got scratching away in my subconscious?" Elizabeth shrugs, prepared to call the bluff. She could always paint a devil's trap on Meg's back like a tramp stamp to keep her locked in the body until they made it to a hospital. After that, they could exorcise the little bitch and take the human inside to be worked on. "You would. Do your boys know how cruel you are?"
"Not yet, but I'm sure they will before this is all over with. Where's John?"
"Dead. I slit his throat myself and watched him choke on his own blood."
"And here I thought demons were good liars." The boys come back into the study with John's journal propped open across Sam's hand, a determined set to their jaws. Bobby goes over to the window, checking the salt line and doing his best to make himself invisible. "What'd you boys decide on?"
"Good old fashioned exorcism," Dean says. "I'm a little rusty when it comes to Latin, but Sammy here will do just fine. What do you say, Meg? You tell us where Dad is and we won't send your ass back to Hell." Meg bares her teeth at him, but there's a new wariness in her eyes. She knows she's pushed the hunters too far this time.
"I'll kill you all," she hisses. "I'll tear the meat off your bones."
"Hit it, Sammy."
"Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino," Sam recites, voice steady," qui fertis super caelum caeli ad Orientem Ecce dabit voci Suae vocem virtutis, tribuite virtutem Deo." Meg fights against the ropes binding her to the chair, trembling and rolling her eyes like she's about to go into a seizure. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica—"
"Ahh!" Meg throws her head back to scream, the tendons along her neck standing out sharply. "He begged for his life with tears in his eyes," she hisses, swallowing convulsively between words. "He begged to see his sons one last time and that's when I slit his throat." Dean leans down to get right in her face, an anger like Elizabeth's never seen filling every crevice and lighting up his eyes with something otherworldly.
"For your sake, you better be lying," he says, a growl to his words. "Otherwise I will march into Hell and kill every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me God. Keep going, Sammy."
"Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te," Sam starts again. "Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare. Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt."
"Last chance, Meg. Where's our dad?" Meg shakes her head, glaring up at Dean like he's the only interesting thing in the room. The malice that burns in her eyes is almost enough to make Elizabeth step back, but she holds her ground and nods at Sam to keep going.
"Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos." Meg's chair slides to the edge of the devil's trap, her scream tearing out of her throat like shattering glass. "Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris, te rogamus, audi nos."
"He will be," she screams, her chair scraping deep gouges in the floor.
"Wait," Dean calls, holding up a hand.
"John's not dead, but he will be when we're through with him."
"How do we know you're telling the truth? Why don't I get Sam to finish this off?"
"He's in a building in Jefferson City! I don't have any specifics because they knew I was coming here to get the Colt."
"What about the demon we're hunting," Sam demands. "Where's Azazel?"
"I don't know! I wasn't told anything just in case this happened, it was a precaution! I swear I don't know anything else." Dean steps back, a grim set to his jaw as he turns to look at Sam. He dips his head in a nod and Sam's eyes widen with the realization.
"We can't just kill her, Dean. She might know where the demon is."
"She doesn't," Dean mutters. "All we can do now is put the innocent girl she's possessing out of her misery." Bobby shakes his head in amazement, striding across the room to grab Dean's arm. The grip won't bruise, Bobby would never hurt any of his kids, but it's tight enough to get Dean's attention.
"What the hell are you doing," he demands. "That's a living human and you're going to kill her!"
"Then I suggest you call an ambulance, Bobby. As long as that demon is inside her, she won't know a minute of peace."
"She's already dead, Uncle Bobby," Elizabeth says, gazing over at them. "She fell from a window on the seventh floor and didn't have a shrub or an awning to break her fall. That girl died the minute Meg's pet daeva was let off its leash. All we can do now is give her a proper burial."
"Finish it, Sam. Give the kid some peace." Bobby and Sam share a look filled with desperation and angst, but Sam gives in all the same. He doesn't like killing innocents, but no one should be violated like this.
"Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae te rogamus, audi nos," Sam recites. "Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo. Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem et fortitudinem plebi Suae. Benedictus Deus. Gloria Patri." Meg's head falls back with a scream, black smoke pouring out of her mouth in a gush that leaves the devil's trap overhead singed black.
"Is she still alive?" Elizabeth moves forward, pressing her fingers against Meg's throat. The pulse is weak and erratic, but it's still there.
"Water and blankets," Elizabeth snaps out. "Get 911 on the phone and tell them we found a girl on the property that had tried to kill herself. Dean, help me get her to the floor." The boys react quickly, Dean kneeling beside the chair and helping undo the ropes. Elizabeth catches Meg when she tumbles forward, easing her to the floor and tilting her head so she doesn't choke on her own blood.
"Th-thank you," Meg rasps. Blood spills out of her mouth in a steady stream, staining her teeth and her chapped lips. "She's been using me f-for a year."
"Shh, it's alright, You're safe now, sweetie. We're gonna take care of you." Elizabeth brushes some of the hair off Meg's face, wincing when she feels part of the skull move. There's nothing a doctor can do at this point, Meg's as good as dead.
"I couldn't move my own body." Tears streak through the blood, glistening in the afternoon sunlight. "What she made me do— It was like a nightmare and I couldn't wake up…."
"Was she telling the truth about my dad," Dean asks. Meg nods and then seems to regret the motion, a bone in her neck sticking out at an odd angle.
"Yes. They want you to come for him, it's a trap." Bobby and Sam come back into the room, helping to cover Meg up with the spare blankets from the hall closet. The cotton is warm thanks to the hot water tank being on the other side of the closet's thin wall, and some of Meg's shivering eases. "The other demon, the powerful one, he isn't there."
"Regular demons are guarding Dad?"
"Yeah, but they're strong. They're keeping him by the ri-river. Sunrise…." Meg goes limp, a quiet breath hissing out before her chest goes still. Elizabeth closes her eyes for a moment, fighting back a wave of tears. When she has better control over herself, she rises and wipes the blood off onto her jeans.
"I'll try the pendant again," she murmurs. Bobby catches her wrist and shakes his head.
"Go get some clean clothes on and I'll do the spell. As a matter of fact, take a quick whore's bath while you're at it." She nods and moves out of the study, heading up the stairs and to her bedroom. It's not necessarily a big room, but it's got a connecting bath and she wants the red off her hands as soon as possible. She scrubs until the water is clear again when it swirls down the drain, no traces of Meg's blood left apart from a thin film of it under her nails.
She dries off and then goes back to her room to change, pulling on a pair of jeans and a black tee so worn that it's practically threadbare, a few holes near the bottom hem. She's just about to go back downstairs when Dean slips into the room, his hands in his pockets.
"We should get goin'," she says quietly.
"Hold on a second." He wraps his arms loosely around her waist and bends to rest his head against her shoulder, letting her wrap him up in a hug. Tears are wet against her neck, but she says nothing as she holds him, letting him get it out before they have to face the others waiting downstairs.
"It'll be okay, honey. She's not hurting anymore."
"What about us, Liza? I mean, we didn't even hesitate to exorcise Meg even though it meant that girl died."
"Sometimes the hard choice is the right one. That girl was suffering and now she's not, she's not being manipulated or violated by some hellspawn. We did what we had to." He sniffles and pulls back, wiping at his eyes.
"When you were so sick, Sam and I worked a wendigo case and I- I remember how scared I was just thinking about not being able to help this girl find her brother. You know how I got through it? By repeating this mantra in my head over and over again: saving people, hunting things, the family business. What kind of business is it if we don't have Dad?"
"We'll get him back, Dean. I don't care if I have to flash a couple of demons to get it done either." Dean pouts at that, shaking his head stubbornly.
"Uh-uh, no demon gets to see my girlfriend's boobs. I draw the line right there. We'll have Sam moon them while you and I drag Dad out a window." Elizabeth laughs at the image of Sam dropping trou in front of a couple demons, some of the sadness edging away.
"Deal." She pulls on a green jacket that practically swallows her, an old thing worn soft by Dean and smelling of his cologne. He smiles when he sees it, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Bobby and Sam are waiting out on the front porch, Sam shifting impatiently from foot to foot until he spots them. "You ready, Sam?"
"As ready as I can be," he shrugs. Bobby pulls Elizabeth into another hug, patting her cheek when he lets her pull back. He likes to pretend that he's a hard ass, but Bobby's always had a soft spot for strays.
"You kids be careful," he says gruffly," and swing by after you've got John out. I won't even try to shoot him this time. Oh, and here's the street name I got from the spell."
"Thank you, Bobby," Dean says, clapping a hand on Bobby's shoulder. "I mean it, thank you for everything. We couldn't have done this without you." Bobby's smile softens his hard edges and he cups Dean's cheek. Dean melts into the touch, so tactile and touch-starved that Elizabeth wants to hurt anyone who's made him this way.
"You're one of my kids, Dean. I couldn't exactly turn you away, could I? Now get goin' before Sam wears a hole in my porch." The boys laugh, weak sounds that don't hold a candle to the usual ones. "Be careful, kids. I'm gonna be real pissed off if I get a phone call from the hospital saying some demons got the jump on you."
"Oh please, we're gonna whoop their asses.