Disclaimer: Neither Jordan nor I own Supernatural.

A/N: Sorry if we wind up being a little slow on the update; only she has this evil play and stuff and I can't exactly write a SPN fic by myself when I don't know anything about SPN. XD So yeah. Please remain patient, even though we probably won't ever go for that long without an update. It still seems like an eternity to us when we don't get a chapter up in a day. lol

Chapter Three -- Recognition

"So, do y'all two speak, or just play Ghostbusters?" Lyn asked, raising her eyebrows at the guys in the shadows. "'Cause it's kind of hard for me to say 'Much obliged and now I've gotta go' to a couple of faceless mutes." A short pause, and then she amended herself: "Actually, no; it would probably be easier. Less random banter. So maybe just forget I said anything at all."

"Wow... this is really... Awk --" Jordan was cut off as the faces of the 'ghostbusters' came into better view. "Hey... don't I know you from somewhere?" She said skeptically, gesturing to Dean.

Lyn's suspicions flared up at once. Her green eyes narrowed and she shifted her weight to the side slightly so as to cover the moving of her left hand behind her back where it reached for the short silver knife in the back of her waist band. "Jordan has a point," she said slowly. "You seem.. vaguely familiar…"

"Yeah…" Jordan tilted her head to the side. "I can't remember exactly where…"Dean and Sam raised their eyebrows and Dean said, "I think we'd remember you... You girls are... unique."

Lyn actually laughed, then; it was short and rather sarcastic, but nonetheless a laugh. "Unique, right," she said coolly. "AKA crazy as a loon. Yeah, yeah; I know the lingo. And you're really not making yourself any less suspicious, just FYI."

Jordan suddenly had a burst of remembrance. "Oh my gosh! Lyn! Those guys! Who almost killed us when they ran us off the road! What... eight years or so ago?! HA! Well they didn't change that much as I remember... still hot…" Jordan mumbled the last part loud enough so only Lyn could hear it.

"You!" she growled, suddenly looking fierce -- well, fiercer than usual -- as she glared daggers at Dean. "You're the idget who flipped my car! I had to pull double shifts to pay for that freaking corn, thanks to you!"

Jordan started laughing uncontrollably, holding her stomach and trying to speak but failing miserably."She okay?" Sam asked Jordan, blinking, then shifted into retort mode as he switched his gaze to Lyn: "And it wasn't my brother's fault! If anything, it was my fault! I was talking to him!"

"Fine, then I'll whack the both of you upside the head," Lyn said indignantly. "That a better compromise? You for distracting him and him for being enough of an idget to let himself get distracted by somebody talking to him. Jeez, Jordan and I hold entire debates while I'm driving and I don't run random people off the road!"

"Amen, Lyn!" Jordan said with a grin. "Anyway... so what are you guys doing here, anyway?"

"Same thing you guys are... or were doing. Vengeful spirit?" Sam said, while Dean just stood there, unusually silent.

"Riiight! Forgot about that…" Jordan mumbled.

Lyn rolled her eyes. "You'd forget your head if it wasn't tacked onto your neck. Not that I'm any better… but whatever. Why are we freaking standing here, anyway!?"

"'Cause... uh... dunno... Well, we'd better be going to the hotel cause we gotta research our next hunt. So it's been nice catching up with you guys! Really... and by the way... sweet car. I'd kill to get it."

After seeing the skeptical looks on their faces she chuckled and said, "Don't worry, you and your car are safe. Come on, Lyn." Jordan started walking away towards Lyn's purple Grand Am.

Lyn shook her head and switched her gaze to Dean and Sam. "Never mind her, she jokes too much. But you might consider that a real threat if either of you ever come anywhere near my car again. Or Mr. Clyde Harris's cornfields, for that matter…"

And, tapping a finger thoughtfully against the side of her leg, she took a couple of steps backwards before turning and following Jordan. The knife was still in her hand; she didn't trust these guys -- or anybody, for that matter -- with her back turned.