A/N: I'm absolutely in love with the book Anna Dressed in Blood by Kendare Blake. It's wonderful. I love the characters, and had a cute little idea for an AU where everyone was happy and everything worked out well. Basically, the Obeahman isn't connected to Cas' athame, he's just another ghost who killed Cas' dad, so Anna didn't get sucked away with the monster, Tybalt is alive and well, Thomas and Carmel are uninjured and happy, and Cas is still searching for vengeance. Also, I didn't think that Cas' mom would be happy with letting her beloved cat run off with her son and his band of friends, so instead, they keep Mercutio, Tybalt's distant relation. Enjoy!


"Where are the pine nuts?" Carmel asks blandly, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "I specifically asked for pine nuts, Cas Lowood, and I know that you heard me."

"Hmm?" I mutter, barely listening. She asked for pine nuts. I couldn't find them at the grocery store. Too bad.

"What is the point of making a list if you don't even get what's on it?" she grumbles, making her sadly pine nut-free salad, tossing it together with some of the dingy forks of our cheap motel room. "By the way, your mom called you earlier. I think she has more college brochures to send you." She knows the comment irritates me, but she's obviously still peeved about the pine nuts.

"I'm home!" Thomas interrupts, tossing open the door. Mercutio rubs at his calves, making loops through his legs that threaten to tip him over. Thomas leans down to scratch the fluffy white ruffian between the ears, carrying two brown grocery sacks. I guess he and Anna stopped to pick up dinner on the way back from the library. He walks over to a grumpy Carmel, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. He places the bags on the counter, tossing her a container: pine nuts.

She brightens, tossing him one of her heart-stopping, beaming smiles, and for a second the radiance of their simple happiness is too intense for the run-down little motel kitchen. Then Anna steps inside, taking my attention away from the chipper couple. She scoops up Mercutio, closing the door with a bump of her hip, and slumps into the couch, tossing me a yellowing newspaper.

"Found the mark," she quietly informs me, as I hear Thomas and Carmel laughing and chatting behind us. "His story's not that different, really. Ex-wife killed him back in '72." She smiles softly at Mercutio, who lets out a long ugly purr. Just like his distant relation Tybalt, he's one unattractive son of a bitch. He also can't stand me.

Anna looks so much different, dressed in jeans and a loose t-shirt sporting a Nirvana logo – a band she'd never even heard of before last week, when I insisted she hear the music if she was going to wear the clothes – that she almost seems alive. Something sticks to her though, a faint sense of not belonging. Her mannerisms, her speech, the way she misunderstands simple slang, those are obvious, but it's almost like a cloying scent that sticks to her skin that reminds me that she's actually dead, murdered nearly sixty years ago.

She rubs her eyes and yawns, and in this moment of tiredness, I remember how young she is. Though her hair and makeup Carmel so cleverly applies help to make her seem older – maybe ninety of twenty – she's only sixteen, biologically. She curls up against a pillow, nuzzling Mercutio. "This should be interesting," she lies. It's an easy job, we both know it. We didn't even bother renting a place, not that one would have been easy to find in a small town in the middle of Nebraska.

"Maybe we should settle down somewhere," I suggest off-hand, watching her carefully. "Birmingham. San Diego. New Orleans. Buy a little place. Spend a year or two there, hunting ghosts."

She smirks briefly at the irony of my statement, being a ghost herself, but doesn't reply for a few drawn out moments. "I don't know," she replies hesitantly. "Staying in one place, don't you think people would notice me? Especially somewhere so haunted, I'd stick out."

"Are you kidding me? You'd fit right in in New Orleans," I laugh, getting up from my stiff chair and fanned out research at the dining table. I settle in the dusty armchair next to her, reaching out and stroking her short hair. "And we wouldn't have to settle for shitty Carmel meals and moldy showers."

"Hey," Carmel protests weakly from the kitchen, but it's no real argument. She knows how terrible her cooking is. Most nights are takeout, anyways. The budget, funneled by Gideon, Morfran, my mom, and other responsible adults, helps keep our little ghost-hunting operation afloat. Without their finances, we'd be pickpocketing little piles of ghostly goop in the hopes of finding spare change.

"I just don't know," Anna says uncomfortably, sitting up and shying away from my hand.

"What's wrong?" I ask, noticing that she's looked more tired lately.

"It's just – Cas, I don't like thinking about the future. After all, where do I fit in with the future? I'm dead, I'm sixteen forever, and you'll grow old and die, for real." Her voice is hushed and she's trying to remain impartial, but I can tell she's distraught. Her tight grip on the increasingly irritated Mercutio helps to prove that as well, and when he hisses, she releases him with a sigh. "See? Even Mercutio gets sick of me."

"Anna, c'mon," I mutter, taking her hand and flashing one of my most charming smiles that I can come up with. "Roaming around like this, how can we possibly find all of the experts who'll help keep you young forever?"

She snorts, but the tension in her shoulders starts to release a bit. "However will I maintain my youthful complexion?" she asks, in her best imitation of a Southern Belle accent. Her pale white complexion is completely perfect, without so much as a blemish.

"In all seriousness, I think settling down could be the best thing for us. Think about it. We'd build a contact base – informants and experts, people who will help us find ghosts and people who will help us send them on. Maybe people who can help you, too, Anna. I've heard about glamour spells that make you look a certain way. We could find one to age you."

"You think so?" she asks cautiously, almost hopefully.

"I do," I tell her honestly. I lean back in my chair, twirling my dad's athame through my fingers with a practiced ease. "And… and I still haven't found whatever ghost it was that killed my dad. I want to know what happened to him, Anna. And running around like this, I feel like I'll never have time."

She grips my hand, understanding but not responding. I know, then, that she'll go, she doesn't have to say it. I squeeze back, satisfied in our little moment of peace.

Thomas slinks over, taking a seat on the couch at Anna's feet, and Carmel hovers near me, seemingly nervous. I wonder what they're planning with a narrowing of my eyes, and I can see Anna thinking the same thing. "Couldn't help but overhear," Thomas begins sheepishly, but with an endearing amount of optimism. I know he can't help knowing what we're talking about, since he's a mind reader, but sometimes, it still bugs me.

"We had an idea," Carmel interrupts, pulling up a seat from the nearby kitchen and plopping down, addressing us with a gleam in her eye that means she wouldn't take no for an answer. "The four of us – the one of us really, since you're the only one who can kill ghosts, Cas – aren't enough for all of the ghosts in the world. I think we can all agree on that." She takes our silence to mean acquiescence, and bulldozes ahead. "Thomas and I think that we should fix that."

"What, that I should start having babies?" I ask, bewildered.

"No, of course not," Carmel snaps, waving off the idea. "No, I mean, I think settling down is a good idea. Travelling and hunting can only do so much good. What if we taught people? You know, helped them to be able to defend themselves. If we were somewhere very haunted, like New Orleans, people would surely be looking for someone to teach them how to avoid ghosts and stay alive, and cleanse places so new ghosts don't happen. They could pass it on to their family, and so on…" She was losing steam, unable to explain her big plans properly.

"I think I follow," Anna nods, smiling. It's like a white cloud popping into the sky on a cloudy day. "We can only deal with so many ghosts, Carmel. We should teach people."

I look between the three of them, wondering how I'd managed to get roped into this mess. Settling down had been my idea, but not this 'Ghost School' crap. "Fine," I grumble, but before Carmel and Thomas can get too excited, I cut them off. "But, I have stipulations. First, I'm not taking time out of real hunting. The school is your business, not mine."

"Alright," Carmel agrees. "And?"

I can't think of another. "And… I pick the house. I want a nice one if it's going to be a school." Carmel begins to cheer with excitement, wrapping Thomas in a mad embrace. She's clearly ecstatic to be able to cease our endless travelling.

"I have a name," Anna tells me quietly as Mercutio reappears, shaking litter off of his long, poofy white tail. "For the school." I glance at her, intrigued. "Why don't we call it Ghostbusters Academy?"

My scowl and subsequent eye roll is drowned out by the rest of the room's cheerful laughter. I take Anna's hand again, shaking my head as the sun casts red and pink light through the grimy window, blowing a warm summer breeze into the stuffy room. Shadows fall along the parking lot, and I'm reminded that we'll be leaving later tonight to take care of the haunted millhouse down the road. For now, however, in the dim light of the setting sun, the smell of reheated chicken drifting from the stove, and the contented purrs of Mercutio, it feels as though this moment might draw out forever.


A/N: This is probably just going to stay a one-shot, but if you really liked it, then keep an eye out, because sometimes I get the itch to keep writing when a story goes well. Thanks as always for the rates and reviews.