The bar they end up at that night isn't the worst one Elizabeth's ever seen, but it's not exactly great. It reminds her of Ellen's place, an old blues song playing on a jukebox half-hidden in shadows, the bar made up of chipped wood, the tables each have a little wobble to them after decades of use. It's almost homey.
She shrugs off the plaid flannel she'd stolen from Dean before they left the motel, tying it around her waist and revealing enough skin to have Dean almost run into a biker. She grins over at him, adjusting the lace trim that clings to her soft belly.
"See something you like?" Dean hums, barely heard over the trumpets and John Hunter's voice. "Maybe I'll let you take it off when we get back to our room."
"Promise?"
"Only if you're good." Sam doesn't even say anything this time around, just grabbing Elizabeth by her nape and pulling her along to the bar with Dean struggling to catch up. Elizabeth wiggles until he lets her go, rubbing at the sore point where his thumb had dug in a little too deep. "Dick."
"You okay, darlin'," the bartender asks. He's tall and broad with the cutest pair of blue eyes she's seen in a while. When he cuts her a worried look, she melts a little.
"Fine now that I'm here." The bartender winks at her, then cuts a look at Sam.
"Your friend here need a lesson in manners?"
"Nah, he's harmless." She leans in to bump Sam with her shoulder and he returns the gesture, just a couple of pups. "He thinks being a few hours older than me gives him the right to boss me around."
"My brother's the same way." They share a smile and Elizabeth wonders if he'd be into a threesome. "What can I get you folks?" God, the southern twang does things to her that no other accent is capable of. If he calls her darling again, she might jump over the bar.
"A couple beers and something fruity for Liza," Dean says. He doesn't do that arm-around-the-waist-she's-mine thing that some guys would, just gives the bartender a friendly smile and nudges Elizabeth slightly in approval.
"What fruity thing do you have in mind, Miss Liza?"
"Can you make a hurricane," she asks, bouncing slightly on her toes.
"Sure thing." He hands the boys their beers and sets to work making Elizabeth's drink, mixing the rums and grenadine with expert precision. When he's got it poured from the shaker into a glass, he pops in a couple cherries and slides it to her, their fingers brushing. "So, what brings y'all to town?"
"We're looking for some people," Sam says.
"Isn't everybody?" Sam hesitates before dropping a fifty onto the bar. The bartender eyes it, holds it up to the light, and then slides it into his pocket when he's satisfied that it's real.
"We're looking for some people that came here around six months ago. They were probably pretty rowdy, liked to drink." Elizabeth sips her drink, doing her best not to remember Luther and his group. She still can't drink tequila without remembering the crunch of Zane's car hitting a tree.
"The sleep all day and party all night type of crowd," Dean adds.
"Barker farm got leased a couple months ago," the bartender says, leaning closer. "The people match that description pretty much to a tee. They drink a lot. Had to kick 'em out once or twice. I try to let people enjoy themselves, but I've also got a business to run."
"You like running things," Elizabeth asks. She's got a finger circling the rim of her glass and the look she gives the bartender is basically screaming that she's feeling more sub than dom tonight. "I'm Elizabeth."
"Eli."
"Well, Eli—"
"Stop flirting for five seconds," Sam interrupts. She turns to snap at him, but his big hand collides with her face and pushes her back half a step. "Eli, I promise that she's open to doing anything you can think of, but I need to get my money's worth of information first."
"You shouldn't push your sister around like that," Eli says, stern. Elizabeth lets out a small sound and those baby blues land on her again. "And yes, I will use that voice later tonight." His gaze cuts to where Dean is watching them, swallowing thickly. "And yes, you can join." Elizabeth and Dean don't even try to keep their fist-bump subtle.
"Jesus wept, I should'a stayed back at the motel."
"There's not much else that I can tell you, bud. I don't exactly try to get to know people that give me migraines." Sam scoffs and pushes away from the bar, his beer forgotten as he moves to the jukebox. He'll sulk over there for a few minutes, find a song he'd listened to on repeat back in school, and then be back to regularly scheduled programming.
"So, what time can we pick you up tonight," Dean asks.
"I'll get out of here by one. If y'all ain't outside by then, I'm also off tomorrow." Dean hums and drops a twenty on the bar before leaving to get Sam. "Is the big guy always such a prude?"
"Only when it comes to my sex life," Elizabeth laughs. "I'll see you soon, handsome." She takes her drink with her to where the boys are lingering by the jukebox, Sam's face lighting up as he selects a song. She's about to ask what he chose when Shania Twain comes over the speakers. "Feelin' like a woman tonight, Sammy?"
"Figured I'd give Eli a migraine before we left," he says. Indeed, Eli has his face planted in his palms like this is the worst night ever. She feels bad for the guy, but she also really likes this song. She'd dance if there was room for it. She settles on swaying instead, moving her hips in a way that has Dean watching intently.
"You look so good in that top," he murmurs against her ear. His hands go to her hips to match her rhythm, both of them meeting Eli's gaze from across the room. Suddenly he looks like he enjoys the song a whole lot more. "Can't wait to take it off later." Elizabeth grins, turning in his arms to look up at him with her fingers looping in his belt.
"Can't wait to feel that leather against me," she says with a wicked grin.
"I need something stiffer than beer to deal with this," Sam groans. He takes Elizabeth's drink and downs half of it in one gulp. Elizabeth doesn't mind, she's too distracted by the feel of Dean's lips on her neck. It's only when Sam grabs the flannel around her waist and starts towing her toward the door like a disobedient mutt that she squawks her offense.
"Dude, I can move by myself."
"Just be happy I'm not carrying you over my shoulder." The night air hits her like a brick to the face, the chill creeping into her bones until she slaps Sam's hand away. She pulls the flannel back on, grateful when Dean comes up to pull her close with an arm around her waist.
"So, are we gonna go check out that farm now or wait till morning?" She doesn't mention the way her stomach cramps at the thought of fighting more vampires, the way the Colt had felt in her hand when she'd killed Luther. I've got your scent, kid. She still has that damn sticky note he'd left on the door, tucked away in an old copy of Dracula.
"I say we wait. Make it easier on ourselves." They turn a corner into an alley up ahead, Elizabeth catching a blur of motion behind them. Soon after, she hears footsteps, intentionally kept quiet. She glances to her right, picking out a shadow growing long under a streetlight.
"Ugh," she complains. "I think I stepped in something back there."
"Yeah, I can smell it." They turn another corner, keeping their pace steady. There's no reason to rush when it's just one set of footsteps, they can deal with a single threat.
They circle the building, coming up behind the other man on quiet feet. It's almost pathetic how easy it is, far too easy for this guy to be anything but human. A vampire would have heard them by now, would have spun around to face them. Instead, the guy lets out a surprised grunt when Sam and Elizabeth slam him into the brick wall, pinning him in place as Dean rests the edge of his knife beneath the man's chin.
"Smile," Dean commands. Their stalker, a black man in his late twenties or early thirties, tries his best to struggle. Elizabeth digs her nails into his shoulder, putting pressure on the delicate arch of his collarbone. "Show us those pearly whites."
"Fucking Christ," the guy snaps. "I'm not a vampire."
"Forgive us if we don't believe you right away," Elizabeth says. "Give us a big smile like a good boy." There's a purr to her voice, promising violence if she isn't obeyed. The guy seems to hear it, baring his teeth for inspection. Dean presses a finger along his gums, but no fangs pop out.
"Believe me now?"
"I believed you the first time. I'm a vindictive little shit that doesn't like dudes creeping after me." She puts a little more pressure on his collarbone, enjoying his flinch. "Sneak up on me again and I'll do more than embarrass you."
"Will y'all let me go now?"
"Not yet," Sam says, shaking his head. "Why were you following us?"
"Because I heard you guys talking to the bartender. I'm a hunter, too." Sam scoffs, but Dean eases back, sheathing his knife. "I'm Gordon Walker." Sam and Elizabeth let him go, giving him a hint of space. They're still in an alley, there isn't exactly a lot of space to go around. "Who the hell are you three?"
"I'm Sam Winchester, this is my brother and sister."
"Winchester? As in John's kids?" Dean nods, he and Sam sharing a look over Elizabeth's head. She hates it when they do that shit, it's not her fault she's too short to be included. "Wait, I thought he only had two boys." Gordon's eyes fall to her, expectant.
"Elizabeth Mayson," she says. There's no recognition like there had been at the boys' names, he's just blatantly unimpressed. It's not her fault that her dad hadn't been a mega dick like John. Dude did his job and then went home to his kids. "Don't give me that look. It's not as if you're famous either."
"Maybe not, but vampires are my specialty. John tended to avoid them when he could." Gordon shrugs, not trying to look modest. It's fair, Elizabeth supposes. Building a specialty in this life means something relatively stable, you didn't have to hunt whatever you came across. With her and her boys, it's a blind bag of knowledge and not all of it is accurate.
"Is that right," Dean asks. Now it's his turn to look unimpressed and, fuck, it does things to Elizabeth. "And you haven't taken the nest out yet, why?"
"There's quite a few of 'em. Hard to take out that many on my own."
"And yet you showed up by yourself." Gordon holds out his arms in a shrug, a take it or leave it type of gesture. Elizabeth isn't sure what to make of him yet. The loner approach could be a personal choice or it could be that other hunters get a bad vibe from him. "Alright, let's get outta this alley."
"Come with me to my car and I can show you my gear." Gordon takes off at a fast walk, a kid at show and tell with something that'll make the rest of his class jealous. Christa Caldwell had brought a new puppy once and she'd let it pee on Elizabeth's backpack. By the time they make it to Gordon's Chevy, he's already pulling a little panel out of the back of it to show them scythes, machetes, and other blades. It'd be impressive if Elizabeth wasn't still dwelling on the whole stalking thing. Also the pee thing, Christa has always been a little bitch.
"Not bad." There aren't any guns in the stash, but they might be in the backseat or something. It's not like guns are always a whole lot of help when you need to decapitate a monster.
"God, I can't believe my luck." When Sam raises his brows in confusion, Gordon plows ahead. "I met your old man once. He was a great hunter."
"Wish he'd been a great father," Sam says curtly. "Liza got pretty lucky in that regard."
"Your dad was a hunter, too?"
"He's talking about my uncle Bobby," Elizabeth explains when Sam nudges her. "He's one of the few hunters that have made it to old age. Well, old-ish. Homie's pushing fifty-six. We need to buy him a cake on the way home."
"Bobby Singer," Sam elaborates. Now Gordon looks impressed, his gaze going straight to Elizabeth and sticking. She crosses her arms, tucked against Dean's side to make her a little less noticeable. Clarke looked at her like that on their date and she'd ended up having to murder him. Twice.
"I didn't know Bobby had any family," Gordon says.
"Not blood related," she says. "He and my dad were buddies and he took me in after my dad passed." It never bothered her that Uncle Bobby was just a family friend, he showed up for all her birthdays and he bought her one of those neat Cinderella dresses from Walmart when she was six. He also punched out Mister Caldwell when he tried to say Elizabeth and Dana were white trash. Dude was right, but he shouldn't have said it.
"I'm sorry about your dad, Elizabeth. I know how tough that can be." Elizabeth shrugs, almost lazy. Gordon looks between the boys now, sympathy etched into his face. "And I'm sorry about your dad, too. I heard y'all have been filling his shoes just fine."
"You a fanboy or something," Dean asks. He's still suspicious and it makes Elizabeth feel a little more justified. It's not just that this guy was stalking them down a dark alley, he gives off some seriously weird vibes. All her base instincts are telling her that he's gonna go full Annie Wilkes on her boys.
"Nah, it's nothing like that. You know how hunters like to gossip."
"We don't." Gordon pauses a second too long, fumbling to keep the conversation on track. It almost feels scripted.
"I guess there's a lot your dad didn't tell you." Dean stiffens beside her, the hand on her back shifting slightly to rest on the knife tucked in her pocket. "I checked out that farm the bartender told y'all about, but they're just a bunch of hippies."
"So where's the nest?" Gordon smiles at them, all cheap plastic and Hollywood glamour. There's a hint of condescension in his tone when he speaks again and it makes Elizabeth shudder.
"Like I said, it's a big nest. I've been here two weeks and I'm handling it just fine. I'm a lone wolf kind of hunter. No offense." Elizabeth and the boys share a look, none of them getting a good feeling about this. It's the warning bells they'd never gotten from Luther.
"I hear there's a chupacabra two states over that you're welcome to take out your frustration on. I don't handle those things." He gets in his car and rolls the window down to smile up at them again. Elizabeth's really starting to hate that smile. "It was real nice meeting you guys. I'll buy the drinks next time we run into each other." And then he's gone, leaving them standing in the parking lot with a light rain soaking into their clothes. They're quiet until his taillights have disappeared, then they all share another look.
It's a little too easy to follow Gordon to the lumber mill, even easier to follow him among the dark machinery. The rain has let up, but Gordon's not quiet as he splashes through the puddles. Elizabeth almost pities him, but her pity has dried up for the night.
"He's too loud," Sam whispers, shaking his head.
"He's gonna fumble it," Dean agrees.
"Let's make sure the dumbass survives so we can make fun of him," Elizabeth says. They break into a sprint when they hear a fight start up, coming around the corner just in time to see Gordon fall onto a conveyor belt.
"Goddamnit." The vampire is reaching for the saw when Sam yanks Gordon down the belt, Dean and Elizabeth taking care of the vampire. Dean hits the vamp over the head with a thick pole, keeping him pinned down while Elizabeth lowers the whirling blade of the saw down on his neck. It's over in a matter of moments, warm blood splattering across their cheeks and chests. Elizabeth wipes her sleeve over her face as she turns to look at Gordon, giving him a scathing smile.
"Now that we're done rescuing the fair damsel, I'll take that drink."