18. No Exit

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Sam, Dean, Landon and Cassidy got out of the Impala, parked in front of the Roadhouse.

"Los Angeles, California," Dean said.

"What's in L.A.?" Sam asked.

"Young girl's been kidnapped by an evil cult."

"Yeah? Girl got a name?"

"Katie Holmes."

Sam laughed. "That's funny. And for you, so bitchy."

From inside the Roadhouse, came the sound of breaking glass and shouting voices.

Dean turned. "Of course, on the other hand -- catfight."

The four hunters entered and on the upper levels, Ellen and Jo were shouting. Dean, Sam, Cassidy and Landon entered cautiously.

"I am your mother, I don't have to be reasonable!" Ellen yelled.

"You can't keep me here!" Jo argued.

"Oh, don't you bet on that, sweetie."

"What are you going to do, are you going to chain me up in the basement?"

"You know what, you've had worse ideas than that recently. Hey, you don't wanna stay, don't stay. Go back to school."

"I didn't belong there! I was a freak with a knife collection."

"Yeah, and getting yourself killed on some dusty back road, that's where you belong?!" She turned and saw the four hunters. "Guys, bad time."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam said.

"Yeah, we rarely drink before ten anyway," Dean added.

"Wait," Jo said. "I wanna know what they think about this."

A mom, dad, and two kids under three, all wearing bright yellow T-shirts that read "Nebraska is for Lovers", entered.

"I don't care what they think!" Ellen yelled.

"Are you guys open?" the father asked.

"No!" Jo retorted.

"Yes!" Ellen told them.

"We'll just... check out the Arby's down the road," the dad said.

The family left. The phone rang. Jo glared at it, then at Ellen, who stalked over to answer it.

"Harvelle's," Ellen greeted. "Yeah, preacher."

Jo looked at the four hunters. "Three weeks ago, a young girl disappears from a Philadelphia apartment." She shoved a file folder at Dean. "Take it, it won't bite."

"No, but your mom might," Dean replied.

She pinched her lips, still holding out the folder and he took it reluctantly. "And this girl wasn't the first. Over the past 80 years, six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes, and the occasional brunette. Only happens every decade or two, so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer, or-"

"Who put this together?" Dean wondered. "Ash?"

"I did it myself."

"Hmm," Dean hummed, impressed.

"I gotta admit. We hit the road for a lot less," Sam said.

Ellen glanced at them. "Good. You like the case so much, you take it."

"Mom!" Jo protested.

"Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough. And I won't lose you too. I just won't."

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