Elizabeth is sound asleep, sandwiched between Sam and Dean like they're personally making sure no ghoulies, ghosties, or long-legged beasties will drag her to Hell. It's cute and she appreciates the sentiment, but she's also super hot. The Winchesters give off heat like a furnace and Elizabeth thinks she might stroke out soon.
With a few curses and some creative maneuvering, she's able to get out of the massive bed. Her footsteps make no sound as she walks across the room to the window, looking out on rolling hills and a garden that's seen better days. The glass fogs from her breath and she draws a smiley face with a small smile of her own.
"You three should really get out of here." Above her smiley face is a man's reflection, tall and gaunt. He looks worse than Sam, dark lines of rot tracing the veins along his arms until they disappear under his sleeves, nose a dark red from a perpetual chill. He's also British, which means she knows exactly who he is. She turns slowly and he's still there by the door, a little blurry at the edges.
"Hello, Mister Hardaway," she greets softly. "I'm sorry for what happened to you." Nick gives a quiet huff that might have been a laugh, ducking his head. "My name's Elizabeth."
"I wish I could say it was a pleasure, Elizabeth." He looks up away and the raw sadness in his eyes makes her heart clench painfully in her chest. He won't be here much longer, the house is feeding on him and it'll keep feeding on him until he's totally gone, erased from history. "You three must go soon. Ellen can sense your friend's psychic energy." They glance at where Sam is lying, his mouth twisted into a frown and his brows drawn together.
"I'm not gonna let her hurt anyone else. We're gonna stop her."
"You'll forgive me if I don't quite believe that. This house will claim you all because that's how it was built."
"The condos weren't built with heartache in mind."
"They didn't build it all from scratch like everyone thinks they did. The foundation, some of the framework, it's all the original bones. It's enough to keep us all trapped here and Ellen's added a few things since then. She's very particular about how Rose Red should look."
"She's fused with the house, hasn't she?" Nick nods, baring his teeth in a disgusted sneer.
"The old bitch and all her family. The rest of us…. We're just batteries to her. Your boy there would power Rose Red's building for years. Not as powerful as Annie, but still powerful." Elizabeth had read about little Annie Wheaton, her ability to bend spoons and conjure boulders from the sky.
"What about the girls she took a few weeks ago? Are they ghosts, too?"
"Not yet. She's got them locked away in the Mirror Library until they succumb."
"Can you take me there?" Nick opens his mouth, but then a howl splits the air, echoing off the walls and breaking the silence like a banshee. Elizabeth flinches away from the sound, squeezing her eyes shut and bringing her hands up over her ears. When she opens her eyes again, Nick is gone and her boys are sitting straight up in the bed.
"Liza," Dean grunts, still hazy with sleep. "What's happenin'?"
"Nick told me that those kids are still alive."
"Nick?"
"Dead psychic." He grunts again, but she can tell he doesn't really understand what she's saying yet. Poor guy hasn't slept well in a week, he just keeps dreaming of John in that hospital bed and the steady tone of the heart monitor flatlining. "Go back to sleep, honey."
"I'm awake, I'm a'kay." He settles back down even as he speaks, green eyes already fluttering closed. A second later, he's snoring and Sam is rolling his eyes in fond amusement.
"So, Nick," Sam prompts, looking over at her. Sitting there, half swaddled in blankets with his hair a mess, Elizabeth thinks of a younger version of Sam. Back when they were maybe five, before they found out about monsters, and they just curled up together with the only worry being what cartoon to watch the next morning.
"He was warning me," Elizabeth says, shrugging. "Told me to get you out of here before Ellen could dig her claws in. I told him we weren't leaving until we got those kids and destroyed Ellen for good." Sam nods slowly, glancing over at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Neon green numbers reveal that it's a little after three in the morning, far too early to be out of bed.
"Did he tell you where the girls are?"
"Mirror Library."
"That was destroyed by the Wheaton kid." Elizabeth shrugs again, no answer immediately leaping to mind. Sam heaves a sigh and gets out of the bed, making sure Dean's still tucked in before joining her by the window. "Maybe we should break out the talking board. I mean, it worked when Dean was in that coma."
"You used a talking board to talk to Dean?"
"Yeah."
"Huh. Alright." Sam pulls it and the planchette out of his duffle, setting it up near the window. The moonlight casts an eerie glow over the board, but moonlight shining into abandoned condos isn't exactly the scariest thing she's ever encountered in her twenty-three years.
"Ready?" She answers by placing two fingers on the planchette, Sam following suit and then staring up at the ceiling like it holds all of life's answers. "Nick, are you still here?" The planchette doesn't move at first, but then it inches over to yes. "How many ghosts are stuck here?"
"Too many," spells the planchette. "Bloodthirsty."
"Yeah, we know about bloodthirsty ghosts. Is Ellen watching us?"
"No."
"Awesome, then how do we get to the Mirror Library?" The planchette stays on no for a long time, so long that Elizabeth is almost certain that Nick got chased off again. She's just about to ask if anyone's there when it starts to move again, slowly and steadily.
"Through the portal into the heart." Elizabeth lets out a curse, teeth grinding harshly together at the news.
"Is that the only way," she asks. The air grows warm beside her and she swears that she feels fingers brushing lightly over her cheek. It's not the usual cold that comes with spirits, but maybe that's because Nick isn't the vengeful sort. Maybe he's just a lost soul that needs a little help to fly off into the light.
"Don't go through the portal. Dangerous."
"What if we used the portal as a mirror? I mean, not go through it, but follow some of its twists and turns on this side until we find the spot the library should be?" There's another pause where Sam and Nick seem to think this over. "We could set to work on one side of the portal, Nick could set to work on the other side, and maybe we could get those girls out."
"That's actually not a bad idea," Sam says.
"We'll need to distract Ellen," Nick says. Elizabeth grins, letting a slow laugh roll out of her. Sam gets the idea a moment later and even he can't hold back a laugh. "What?"
"Elizabeth here is the best distraction on the planet, man. One time we were hunting a ghost in a convent and she distracted the nuns by running topless through the convent singing My Heart Will Go On." For just an instant, Elizabeth swears she can hear Nick's laugh, the quiet, heartbreaking sound. "We should start planning. Nick, you think you can recruit some buddies?"
"I know a few people who'd like to help." The warmth disappears a moment later and Elizabeth shivers in the sudden cold, goosebumps peppering her bare arms. Across from her, Sam is rubbing his arms to get some warmth back in them.
"Who's gonna wake Dean up?"
"Rock, Paper, Scissors?"
Nick moves through Rose Red without a sound, slipping past the numerous carpenters until he can slip into the billiards room. The room doesn't exist in the real world anymore, but not much has changed on Nick's side of the portal. Waiting inside, huddled together on the couches and along the walls, his fellow psychics are doing their best to keep existing.
"Did you convince the visitors to leave," Vic asks. He looks older than his fifty years, death carving deep grooves in his face. He's still in the striped pajamas he'd died in, but there's no sign of carrion birds that had fed off of him. On this side of the portal, the ghosts look like they always have.
"Actually, I think they may be able to help us out of here," Nick says, leaning against the pool table. Back when he was alive, he'd played pool in here and contemplated how to get out, how to get little Annie to open the doors. Now here he is, six years later doing much the same thing.
"Don't be ridiculous," Joyce says, ever the sourpuss. She's across the room, separate from the others as she studies the old photographs lining the wall. The others from their group hadn't welcomed her much once they were dead, old grudges making it hard to accept her presence. They let her stay in the room with them, though, because they know what happens to the spirits that Ellen gets her hands on.
"They're hunters." Joyce's head snaps up, curls bouncing wildly around her shoulders. There's a spark of hope in her eyes, hope that they can leave this property and go where the dead are supposed to. "They're here about the children that Ellen captured, they want to save them before they die, too."
"No child should be stuck in this place," Mrs. Waterman says sourly. The portly woman has made it her solemn duty to baby everyone in this room, to make sure they brush their hair and to tuck blankets around their shoulders even if none of them feel the chill anymore. He thinks she'd go totally insane if they didn't grant her that small mercy. "How can we help, Nicky?"
"Well, some of us would guide the hunters to the Mirror Library, us on one side and them on the other." The ghosts all nod, following along with the plan. "Those not doing that would help Elizabeth distract Ellen and her cronies." Bollinger's arm shoots up as a volunteer, baring his teeth in a vindictive grin.
"Dibs," he says. "I can blind the old bitch with my camera or I can just throw the camera at her head." Bollinger shrugs and Nick has to bite back a smile. "How are you guys supposed to guide the humans, though? They can't see us on this side."
"Rope." There's a sound of general agreement to that since rope passes easily through the portal. Nick remembers how disoriented they'd all been six years ago when they came out of the Mirror Library and their rope had gone straight through a wall that hadn't been there before. Hammering starts up somewhere in the house, effectively hushing the group.
"We have to move soon," Professor Miller says, staring up at the ceiling. "The more she builds, the less time those kids have."
Elizabeth has done a lot of weird shit in the name of saving people, but she can't say that she's ever done this.
"Are you sure this will work," she asks, glancing over at Bollinger. The dead journalist is grinning over at her, more solid than Nick but not by much. He's young, maybe a year or so older than Elizabeth, his pale hair sticking up in places and his clothes hanging off his skinny frame.
"Ellen hates people defacing all her hard work," he says, shaking a can of spray paint. "What better way to get her to focus on us and not the others than by spray painting dicks on every surface we can reach?"
"Fair enough." So that's exactly what they do, making their way down one hall while Dean and Sam work their way down another with a length of rope that's poking out of the wall like some sort of demented weed. They're almost to the stairs when a howl starts up, the same shrill burst of anger from earlier. "I think we got her attention."
"Try to stay out of her reach or she could drag you into the house like she did those girls." Elizabeth nods, dropping the can in favor of an iron bar. The howling grows louder the closer the bitch gets and then Ellen herself is rounding the corner up ahead, hair gone white and skin like jerky.
"What's wrong, Ellen," Elizabeth calls in a mocking voice. "You don't like my artwork?" Ellen's canines grow long, dipping down over her lip like the fangs of some wild beast. It's more a show of intimidation than anything and Elizabeth plants her feet firmly, waiting for Ellen to get closer.
"Move!"
"Not yet." Ellen is barely a foot away when Elizabeth swings, the iron hitting Ellen squarely in the head. The ghost doesn't vanish or flicker, she's rocked sideways against a wall and tumbles through it with a cry like shattering glass. "I thought she was a ghost."
"The house makes her stronger. Come on, maybe we can get her to go outside with us." Elizabeth nods and makes a sprint for the front doors only to have Ellen appear in front of her, her face red and raw where Elizabeth had hit her. "What do we do, Liza?"
"I dunno, I'm making it up as I go along." She's pretty sure her guardian angel would be banging its head against a wall by now. Head trauma has to be a safer bet than Elizabeth's life choices. She feints to the right and then goes to the left when Ellen follows the move, her fingertips brushing the doorknob when a cold hand grabs her by the nape.
"Not so fast, Missy," Ellen hisses, tossing Elizabeth like a ragdoll. She hits a table with enough force to crack it in two, following the splintered wood to the floor. Bollinger appears in front of her, his shaking hands curled into fists at his side. "Out of the way, Mister Bollinger. I need to teach this intruder some manners."
"Leave her alone," he demands, puffing his chest out. Ellen's fangs retract so she can smile, a horrible thing that makes her cheeks crack like old leather. "Leave— Leave us all alone, Ellen." The closer Ellen gets, the more insubstantial Bollinger becomes, his edges starting to fade away until he's little more than a blur. "Run!" Elizabeth scrambles to her feet and away from the entry hall, though she's not entirely sure where she's going.
"You can't run forever, my dear!"
"Suck a dick," Elizabeth yells over her shoulder. She skids around a corner and practically soars through a pair of glass doors, stumbling out onto the lawn. She nearly trips over a busted garden gnome, but she regains her balance and keeps running.
"You little brat! Get back here!" Elizabeth slowly rounds the house until she's back at the front doors, racing back inside and up the stairs. She still doesn't know where she's going, just that she's doing a good job of keeping Ellen distracted. "Stop her, Sukeena!" Elizabeth doesn't even get the chance to remember who Sukeena is before she's clotheslined, dropping to the floor with a choked gasp.
"Who do we have here," Sukeena hums, leaning over and studying Elizabeth like she's a prized turkey. The woman looks surprisingly similar to Ellen, though her skin is darker and whatever hair she has is hidden beneath a red headwrap. "You're not the psychic one."
"Go fuck yourself," Elizabeth bites out. Sukeena kicks her in the ribs when she tries to get up, a solid blow that has her doubling over with a cough. Ghosts aren't supposed to be this solid, goddamnit. Elizabeth gingerly rolls onto her back to look up at the two women. "You ever thought about playing soccer? You're a natural."
"What should we do with her?"
"Put her with the others," Ellen says decisively. "It's been too long since Rose Red had a good feast." Sukeena's hands go under Elizabeth's armpits, dragging her backward no matter how hard she kicks and thrashes.
"Let me go," she yells, bucking despite the way sharp nails dig into her. "Let me go, you ugly bitch!" Sukeena doesn't respond to her language, just keeps dragging her through various hallways until they come to a pair of double doors. They open by themselves and then Elizabeth is being tossed inside, the doors shutting and locking behind her.
"What the fuck," a voice hisses. Elizabeth sits up, one arm wrapped around her ribs as she looks around. You wouldn't have to be a genius to figure out what room she was brought to, shelves of books line the walls and both the floor and ceiling are made out of seamless panes of glass. She glances over at the two girls cowering against a bookshelf; one American and one South Korean, both newly arrived from Japan.
"It might not seem like it right now, but I'm here to rescue you."
Dean's got the rope tied around his wrist, letting the ghosts tug him along the right halls. Beside him, Sam is keeping watch with the shotgun in his hand and extra rounds stuffed in the pouch of his hoodie. They've been quiet for the hour they've been moving, but the silence is growing unnerving and Dean will go crazy if someone doesn't break it.
"How do you think Liza's doing," he asks.
"She's probably been captured," Sam says without hesitation.
"Yeah, she's pretty good at that." They go quiet again, following a slow curve to the left before they're forced to stop. The hall ends up ahead, probably meant to be added onto if the condos ever took off. Now there's only an end table in front of the wall, a vase of dead flowers resting on it. "I should buy Liza some flowers when this is over with."
"Seriously? That's what you're thinking about?"
"Yeah, why? You want some flowers, too?" Sam makes a face at that and glances away, mouth screwed up into a scowl. Dean waits with raised brows and then Sam is looking at him again.
"Sunflowers, please."
"You got it, big guy." Sam nods, but he doesn't look away even as the rope around Dean's wrist tugs insistently toward the dead end. "You okay, Sammy? I mean, I know you're not okay, but, uh…" Dean trips over the words, unable to ask what he really wants to know. He knows Sam is still grieving because Dean's still grieving, but so much has happened in the past year that they still haven't processed.
"I was gonna ask you the same thing, actually."
"I'm fine."
"Dean, it's just… Dad's been dead a week and you've barely talked about him. I'm worried about you, we all are." A pang of guilt makes Dean twitch, shifting from foot to foot anxiously. He's not going to tell Sam what John had hissed to him on his deathbed, not when it was so terrible. Instead he does what he's good at, he makes a joke.
"You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance." Sam growls low in his throat, baring his teeth in a snarl of pure rage. Dean gets it, he's mad too, but they've got a job to do. "Let's get those kids to safety and then we can have a long discussion about this, Sammy. Sound good?"
"Fine."
"Alright, now I figure your head is as hard as any wall, so I'll use you as a battering ram."
"Oh, go fuck yourself." Dean shrugs, grabbing a hammer from the floor (seattle livery, 1924, reads the brand along the handle) and bringing it down against the wall. The head tears through wallpaper and sheetrock in one strong blow, leaving a hole the size of Dean's fist. He swings again and again until the hole is big enough for even Sam to fit through. On the other side are a library and the missing girls, a thin sheen of blue light separating the hunters from the girls. Nick and Professor Miller appear in the hall beside the hunters, expressions grim.
"How do we get them out," Dean asks.
"Very carefully," Nick answers. "The professor will guide them out into the hall to you and I'll take up distracting Ellen. Good luck, Dean."
"Yeah, you, too." Nick gives a sharp nod and then he's striding off back the way Dean had come, leaving the hunters and Professor Miller behind. The professor is an older man, maybe around Bobby's age with gray hair and sorrowful eyes. He looks tired, like just standing upright is taking a toll on him. "You ready for this?"
"As ready as I can be, I suppose," Miller nods. "Guys?" The others appear, forming a barrier between the hunters and whatever might come around the corner. "Sam, the rope's been secured on my side of the portal, it'll support you all if you climb from the window there." He points to the window on Sam's right, one pane of the glass spiderwebbed from a stone or a storm.
"Right," Sam nods. He uses the butt of the gun to break the window, scraping it along the frame to get rid of any jagged shards. Dean unties his end of the rope and drops it out the window, not daring to look at how high they must be. At least the third floor, if not higher. "We're ready, Professor."
"I won't be long." Miller passes through the wall like it's not actually there, the blue light shimmering as he passes through it. Dean can see the two girls shrinking away from him, but Elizabeth rises and starts to chatter. He can't hear what she's saying, but he can imagine it's something sarcastic given the way Miller tosses his head back to laugh.
"You should seriously propose to her, dude."
"You should seriously shut up before I break out the itching powder." Sam makes a face, scooting closer to the window in case he needs an escape route. Dean glances back at the hole in the wall when the blue light flashes brightly, the blonde girl coming out to stand in the hall. She's shivering, dressed for summer rather than a frigid January night.
"Holy fuck," she gasps, looking around. "I never thought I'd be so happy to see rednecks."
"Don't insult you rescuers, kid. It's just rude." She manages a weak smile, shuffling over to Sam and snuggling against his side for the warmth. Sam jumps a little, but he's got an arm wrapped around the kid's shoulder before he even seems to realize it. Growing up around Elizabeth means getting used to a short person using you as their personal space heater.
The light flares again and then the Asian girl is stumbling out, flinging herself against Sam's other side with a small cry. Sam gets an arm around Natalie, too, getting used to his new role as a giant teddy bear. With all that hair, he could pull it off. A depressed Wookie if nothing else.
A howl cuts through the still air followed by Nick screaming curses and insults faster than Dean can keep up with. Dean and Sam share a glance, communicating with just a look and a couple of shrugs. His brother is moving almost instantly, ushering the two teenagers out the window and following them down. Liza's car keys are in his pocket anyway.
"We need to hurry, Miller," Dean shouts. In the Mirror Library, Miller is giving him the finger. "Fuck you, too, pal! Let's move!" With no more time left to be careful, Miller shoves Elizabeth out of the portal and into the hall. She stumbles and falls against Dean, far too cold for his liking. "Out the window, honey."
"Defenestration isn't on my bucket list," she says through chattering teeth.
"Mine either, but we gotta do it." She manages to get over the ledge and has her feet planted on the brick wall when the howling grows closer. Elizabeth pauses, glancing to the left where the ghosts are doing their best to keep Ellen at bay. "Come on, Liza. We'll come back for the bitch." Dean climbs over the ledge, following Elizabeth down slowly and steadily. It's far more than three stories, but they eventually reach the ground before Ellen can swipe for them. Dean takes Elizabeth's hand as they sprint away from the house, meeting Sam beyond the gates and out of Ellen's reach.
The drive to the hotel where the MacBride and Amori families are staying is about an hour and a half's drive, but it's worth it to see the way Natalie and Darcy's eyes light up. Dean doesn't see the reunion, but he's got a warm feeling in his chest all the same.
"We need to burn the house," Elizabeth says, huddled tightly against Sam. She'd be in his lap if they didn't have to worry about being pulled over, still cold even an hour later. "That's how Ellen keeps the souls trapped. She's part of the framework now."
"Alright, well, it's not like we have anything else to do." They drive back to the house, the sun just starting to rise on the horizon and painting the sky in shades of purple, pink, and orange. Seeing the condos outlined in these colors would have been beautiful if it was any other house, but Ellen's darkness curdles anything it touches. They move methodically along the property, lining the foundation with kerosene and salt until Rose Red is surrounded. Miller and Reardon meet them on the front porch, taking a couple cans of kerosene, salt, and a book of matches from the hunters. They wait until the fire has started inside before they light the one outside, making a beeline back to the Chevy as Ellen screams her displeasure.
That afternoon, after several hours of uninterrupted slumber, the hunters drag themselves into a diner. Elizabeth isn't shivering anymore, but she's pulled on Dean's hoodie and a pair of fleece-lined sweats that should make her boil alive under the diner's heating vent.
"Three coffees, two of them black and one of them with cream," Dean orders, holding Elizabeth close. "And give us a stack of pancakes as big as Jolly Green over there." He gestures vaguely at Sam, but his brother is too tired to complain. The waitress nods and turns away with their ticket, pausing long enough to glance up at the TV.
"It's weird, isn't it," she muses. Dean grunts, glancing up to see what she's talking about. The TV is on a news channel, showing the burned remains of a house, the earth around it scorched black. "Rose Red caught on fire this morning, but no one knows how. No one tried to save it either."
"Maybe it was for the best."
"Yeah, that house always gave me the creeps." The waitress hurries away, turning in their ticket and moving to wait on some old couple in a corner booth. Dean keeps his gaze on the TV, catching a few blue shapes escaping the blackened smoke. Among the flood of them, he catches sight of Nick and the rest of Reardon's group. Nick smiles once at the camera like he knows the hunters are watching, then he's gone like the others.
"Let's head home after some more sleep. I'm sure Bobby's missing us."
And the sweet secret of/A summer place/Is that it's anywhere/When two people share/All their hopes/All their dreams/All their love