- - - - -

After school, Sam waited at the science wing parking lot for twenty minutes before a blue minivan pulled up. The door slid open and a boy Sam recognized as Brian, the Cougar's center forward, jumped onto the blacktop. "Hey, you must be Sam Winchester." Sam stuck out his hand and Brian took it briefly, as though he thought a handshake was very uncool. "Well, climb in loverboy, we don't have all day." Brian grinned brightly, and Sam suddenly felt very "in" as he clambered as smoothly as he could into the minivan, making a b-line for the backseat where Sandra was sitting. She wore a dark pink sweater over a white t-shirt and a glittery, maroon belt around her khaki pants. Sam thought she couldn't possibly look more like a fashion model than she did now.

They drove for awhile and Sam did his best not to make an idiot out of himself talking to Sandra. Brian pulled on a pair of headphones and started zipping away on his Nintendo, and up in the front, Brian's brother Sean and his girlfriend Marissa flirted endlessly.

Sam and Sandra were midway through a discussion about music (Sandra wanted U2 to come off their hiatus, and Sam wanted Sandra to at least give Metalica a shot) when Sam realized they'd just crossed the train tracks. He looked out the window in time to catch a bright green sign reading, "Theta Pike".

Sam leaned forward in his seat. "Hey, Sean?" Sean glanced in the rearview mirror. "Is this the quickest way to Jackson Heights?"

Brian pulled his headphones off. "We're gonna stop by the grocery store and pick up a few things for the picnic."

"Oh okay." Sam gave Sean an apologetic nod, and then nodded at Brian as well. "Thanks." Brian returned to his music and Sam sat back in his seat and resumed his conversation with Sandra.

- - - - -

Prrrring…

Prrrrring…

Prrrrring…click- This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call Jim Murphy at eight six six, five-

Dean hung up the phone, and tossed it gloomily on the sofa. He dug into his pocket and withdrew what was left of his IGA paychecks. $29.87. A lousy thirty bucks to get him and his brother by until John resurfaced.

The boys' father took nothing for granted. He always had a backup plan. The trouble was there was no way he could have predicted every part of that plan falling through. The money was trapped in the bedroom, Pastor Jim's phone was off the hook, and the gun was still where it always was, but this time around, their problems weren't solvable with rock salt or buckshot. Much as he hated it, Chris had a point; it was only a matter of time until someone in the Motel realized the Winchester boys were living alone, and then what?

Dean shook himself and snatched up the TV remote, booting the tube up. Every time things got quiet, he started worrying. And he couldn't worry, he wasn't allowed to. Sam worried plenty for the both of them.

There was a NASCAR special he started watching, though his eyes were only half tuned in. A loud banging came from somewhere the back of the house. He turned the volume up six bars.

- - - - -

The feeling of unease had crept sneakily and steadily into Sam's stomach, until he was barely listening to Sandra's explanation of her trip to LA with her family last year. The sun was beginning to set, and yet they still hadn't reached the grocery store. They'd been on Theta Pike for almost a half-hour, and were now turning onto a road called Roy Sellers Road, which turned into Jacobs Road, which turned into an unnamed dirt road.

"Woah there's a grocery store all the way back here?" Sam said, trying to sound light and sarcastic. Sandra laughed. Brian just shrugged and Sean kept on driving.

The car bucked on the uneven drive, causing Sam's nervous stomach to pitch even more. Finally they came to a stop, and Sean put the car in park and got out, Marissa following suit. Brian unbuckled his seatbelt and turned around. "Well? C'mon you guys." He bailed out as well, and Sandra shrugged and followed him, clambering over Sam's legs to get there. He caught a brief whiff of her vanilla shampoo as she did this, and normally he supposed that would make his heart race. Today however, the combination of vanilla, new car and foreboding made his stomach churn.

When Sam got out of the car and glanced around, it appeared first that only trees surrounded them. Then he looked to see where Sean and Marissa had gone, and realized they were headed towards a broken down house almost directly ahead of the minivan. The wood was rotting and coated in ivy, but once Sam stared at it long enough, he realized it was once a very impressive building, and even now was taller than most abandoned houses.

"I don't get it…," he said slowly, catching up with Brian. "What about the picnic?"

"What about it?"

"Yeah be cool, Winchester," Sean put in, giving Marissa a brief kiss, and linking his arm around her shoulders as they climbed the steps to the house.

Sam walked awkwardly beside Sandra as they too mounted the front porch with Sean and Marissa, Brian close behind them. "Kids?" Sean spread his arms wide. "Welcome to the Hodgins place. Also known as the Haunted Hodgins House." He grinned, winking briefly at Sam, his voice taking on a fire-side-horror-story quality. "Fifty years ago today, eighty-year-old George Hodgins was mysteriously murdered in his house. The cops found blood in the bedroom, yet the body had completely disappeared. Since that day, old man Hodgins has haunted this place, waiting for his murderer to return. But you know ghosts. They don't know the difference between the guilty-" (he lifted his fist to the door) "-and the innocent." He rapped loudly, and jumped back, making Sandra squeak a little. The door swung in, screaming on its hinges, and a little dirt fell from the ceiling inside.

Sam took a step back, feeling the tension rise. Maybe these kids figured it was all a hoax or a good story, but he had the misfortune of living in a world where he knew the impossible was often possible. For all he knew, Hodgins was really in there, waiting for someone to walk through the door and become the next victim in an unexplainable mystery.

Suddenly he had the unpleasant sensation that all eyes were on him. Brian was saying, "No one ever goes in there and comes out alive." He elbowed Sam in the ribs. "So what d'ya say, Sam?"

He blinked. "Huh?"

"Sandra said you were cool. This would be a way to prove it." He swept and implicative hand at the open door. "What're you waiting for?"

Sam turned on Sandra, who was staring unblinkingly back at him, beautiful and expectant. He felt his throat go numb and his mouth dry out instantly. "I'm…that thing is structurally unsound you guys, forget ghosts it could fall in on-"

"Chicken." Sam looked at Brian who shrugged indifferently and repeated, "You're a chicken Winchester." He raised his eyebrows at Sandra. "I told you."

Sam struggled to regain Brian's attention. "Hey, being smart has nothing to do with-"

"You scared or aren't you?" Sean cut in.

"Yeah." Marissa swung an arm through Sean's and smiled prudishly down at Sam. "C'mon, we could use the scare. Just go in, get a book or something and come out. Easy. You don't believe this ghost stuff anyway, right?"

Brian nodded. "It's cake, Winchester." Sam stared at him for a long time until Brian sighed, breaking the silence. "Fine. Let's go you guys, gotta take Grandma Samson home."

Sam would have been okay with that. He hated it, but he could have lived with it, had Sandra not caught his elbow on the way down the porch steps. "Hey." He looked at her, and her eyes were wide and disappointed. "I told them you were cool. I thought…" she swallowed hard. "I thought you were different. You're really making me look bad, Sam."

Oh. Did she have to say his name? Did she have to have great, wide, blue eyes? It was atrociously unfair. Sam felt himself saying, "Fine," and then the ringing in his hears began as his feet walked him back up the steps. "Fine," he repeated as he passed Brian and dropped his backpack onto the porch floor. "You guys want a thrill? I'll bring you two books."

Sandra was glowing and Brian looked satisfied. Sean swept a graceful arm to the door. "Well? In you go."

"Yeah nice knowing you, kid," Marissa added with a sly wink.

Sam moved past the tall teenagers, hesitated a little, nodded at Sandra, and then walked straight through the rotting doorway. Sean reached in and closed the door behind him.

Sam looked up at the dusty, cobweb-coated ceiling and noted that it had completely fallen through in places, revealing a dusty room overhead. He moved around on his tiptoes, trying to see into the room, and realized there were shelves up there. A library? Good. Time to go get those books.

He quickly navigated through the mostly vacant downstairs, but the further he went, the darker and mustier it got. By the time he reached the stairs, he felt like he was breathing undiluted dust. He coughed harshly, taking a step onto the staircase. The first step he put his weight on broke in half, and he jumped back. He heard a scream outside.

"Sam, you okay?" It was Sandra. Sam felt a little bravado coming on.

"I'm good. It's just a- snake. But he's dead now." After saying it, he felt really dumb and knew that Dean would never let him live it down, had he been there to hear it. But he smiled as well. This wasn't so hard. And there probably was no Hodgins.

Sam ascended the stairs carefully, testing each step before using it, and at last reached the upper landing. He found himself in a dark, musty hallway. The carpet had long-since been eaten away by time and the elements which snuck through the decaying rafters above. The floor seemed to be holding together, and he went smoothly down the hall to the room he had seen from downstairs. Sure enough, he reached the doorway to find a small study with a gaping hole dominating most of the room.

Sam checked the tiny strips of floor stretching against the walls for sturdy footholds. The left half looked in better shape than the right, so he went that way, pressing his back solidly against the wall, and began to scale what was left of the floor. He could see two bookcases at the back of the room, both mostly empty, but still containing a few ruined books. Two. He just needed two.

Then he heard it. It started as a quiet creaking, which he forced himself to believe was a result of the rotting wood that barely held this house up. Then it turned into a high whining, which escalated in pitch until it completely disappeared. Sam froze, glued to the wall, wide eyes fixed on the dark hallway behind him. The silence made his ears pound and the house seemed to have fallen completely silent.

Sam moved his foot. The sound started again. Now it sounded less like squeaking and more like…moaning? Long, drawn, mournful noises. Noises of the dead. Sam's heart hammered in his chest as he tried to decide whether to head for the bookcases or return to the hallway, from whence the sound appeared to be coming. He cleared his throat. "Hello?" Bad idea. His own voice creeped him out, causing him to add, "Very funny Brian." There was a quiet clicking. Then…

Maaaaaaaaaaaaawww…Aaaahhhhh…I- I…uh- aaaahhhh…

Labored breathing; both his and the voice's. Sam panicked. He skated quickly across the beams as the voice intensified.

"REVENGE!" It screamed suddenly with terrifying clarity, its words broken by long, grizzly breathing. "AVENGE- haaaaah -AVENGE ME! Haaaah…" Even now, Sam couldn't quite tell where the sound was coming from. It filled the room, the whole house. Hodgins could be anywhere. He was everywhere!

"Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh no…no no no…" Sam scurried to the edge of the room and grabbed one of the rotting bookshelves. He hauled himself away from the wall, standing finally at the back of the room. Slamming his back against the second shelf, he turned frantically to look back down the hall. From across the old study, the hallway looked like a small, black hole. Like staring down the throat of a wooden snake. Sam strained his eyes against the darkness, trying desperately to see anything down that black stretch of space, but nothing appeared, and the sound had vanished again.

The moments slogged by until he turned his back on the hallway, and surveyed the bookshelves. Two books were stacked on top of one another directly in front of him. Sam grabbed them both without looking at them, and started back across the room.

His mind was buzzing, scrambling for what to do next. What would Dean do? Dean wouldn't have come in here on a dare in the first place, dummy. Sam kicked himself yet again for giving in to Sandra. No girl could possibly be worth this! He could die in here. Sam felt his hands begin to sweat and his feet grow cold. He could die here…

No. No, he wasn't going to die. There was no Hodgins; his mind was playing tricks on him. Too many late-night horror flicks and too many pent-up nerves. He could do this!

Sam started down the dim hallway once more, feeling spongy board beneath his sneakers, and hearing every squeak the rafters made. Just a little further. Just-

Ahhh…aaaaah…haah- haah- haah…

He froze. "No."

Avenge- me…Avenge- haaah -me!

"No!" Sam turned. Whole body throbbing in horror, he fled back down the hallway. He heard pounding behind him and didn't dare look back, but cascaded straight ahead to the study. He wasn't looking or thinking, but ran pell-mell into the dark room and before he knew it, he was slipping and falling on the slanted floor.

Sam threw his hands out behind him, trying to grab onto something as he slid towards the yawning hole in the floor. He felt like he was being swallowed. The whole house buckled in his vision as he crashed downwards. And then he was free falling, the air rushing past him, making him nauseous. Truth be known, it all happened in seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Constant fear of the next moment.

Sam hit the floor and remarkably didn't hear the white snap of a bone or even the pop of his shoulders or knees. He was alive. He lay flat on his back, dazed, and stared up at the hole he had just fallen through, mind trying to catch up with body. His head continued to pound, and he was shaking all over. Something warm slid past his ear, and he jerked upright, grabbing for the spot. Blood oozed from somewhere around his cheekbone. His chin stung too, and he thought he felt some tattered skin there as well. But he was alive. He was okay.

Then he remembered the pounding he'd heard on his way down the hallway and shot to his feet. Footsteps, it had sounded like footsteps, hadn't it! The world tipped silkily around him, but adrenaline powered him out of the debris that had fallen with him. Not even pausing to wonder what happened to the books he'd had, he broke for the door, every ounce of strength intent on pulling it open and getting out of this house.

When Sam finally burst into the rosy, evening light (blinding grabbing his backpack as he ran), the first thing he noticed was how clear the air was. His second thought was that Sandra, Brian, Sean and Marissa weren't standing on the porch anymore. In fact, they seemed to have disappeared entirely, though the blue minivan was still parked in the driveway. Sam leapt down the porch steps and slowed to a halt by the van, his breath still jumping from him in little gasps. He put his palms on his knees, trying to pull himself together, eyes still darting around the clearing.

"Sandra?" He panted. "Br…Brian?"

"Boo." The voice came from directly behind him and he spun around to meet it. When he turned, however, he didn't see a person, but a silver nozzle at the end of a can. No sooner had he realized what it was then a jet of thin, pink slime erupted from the nozzle and Sam jumped back in surprise as his hair, shirt and jeans were coated with the stuff. As though from the end of tunnel, he heard laughter. He looked down at himself, realized it was Silly String and looked up again, bewildered. It was Sean.

"Man you should have seen your face!" he cackled. Marissa came out of the tree line then, also laughing wildly, and sent a brief jet of yellow Silly String from her own can. Sam attempted to deflect it, but he was too numb and shaky to avoid more than a little of the plastic string. He felt like someone had put him in a snow globe and tipped him upside down. Nothing was making sense.

"Sam! Hey, Sam!" Sandra strolled from behind the van, a disposable camera held aloft. "Say cheese!" The camera flashed in Sam's face twice. He just watched her, dumbstruck.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, the voice returned. Loud and strangely raspy. "Avenge- haaah -ME!" Sam turned quickly towards the old house in time to see Brian appear in the doorway holding a Boombox cranked up to the max. The voice was coming from there. Sam realized a crackly, poor-recording quality he had not noticed in the gloom of the Hodgins house.

Sam somehow found his voice. "Was this…this was all-"

Brian shut the stereo off and jumped off the porch, beaming. "Man that was hilarious!" He high-fived Sandra…who then kissed him. Kissed him purposefully, meaningfully. A long, drawn-out kiss. She pulled away and eyed Sam with a new light. Like a puppy she thought was cute but no way would she adopt. She was cool and collected. How had he not seen that superior glint in her eyes before? She looked just like Marissa.

Sam couldn't feel his hands or knees. He wanted to run for it, but he was afraid his rubber legs would give out and he'd fall on his face instead. That would be the perfect capper to this horrific evening. He was still staring at Sandra, something still not making sense to him. "Why?"

Sandra shrugged. "Why what?"

"Why…all this? Why the hoax, why the…" he pointed at Brian's Boombox and couldn't seem to finish his sentence.

Brian stuck out his lower lip. "What'sa matter, ghostbuster? I thought you believed in this stuff." He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a battered, rolled-up notebook. Sam felt like something big and heavy had landed on his chest. It was his notebook; the one he thought was trapped in his and Dean's bedroom. The one with his notes on spirits and ghosts. The one he was going to make like his dad's. Brian cracked it to the middle and started reading aloud. "Spirits come in many different kinds. And not all are angry; some are just lost or confused. With a lost spirit, the best thing is to reason with them, and find a way of proving to them what they do not know: That they no longer live." Brian shut the notebook and chucked it at Sam's feet. "Awww."

Sandra laughed, and hugged his arm, smiling cat-like at Sam. "Sorry, Sam," she said after a pause. "You're sweet and all." She gave him an unimpressed sweep with her bright, sparkly eyes. "But you know, I'm not hanging out with a psycho. In your dreams, maybe."

Brian grinned at her. "Don't take it personal dude. For what it's worth, that was a laugh-riot!" He started laughing again and the rest of them joined in, trying to shove in little anecdotes about the look on Sam's face when he ran from the house and the way he was yelling.

"It was awesome man, we've been planning this like- all day," Sean told him.

Sam felt his face burning. He knelt down and gingerly retrieved his notebook, feeling suddenly stranded in this dark corner of the woods. Sean studied him through bursts of laughter and said, "Aw c'mon, kid, you gotta laugh at yourself more."

"Yeah?" Sam replied dully.

Sean lifted his can of Silly String again. "Yeah. Lighten up!" The jet of pink jumped forward, but Sam wasn't there to be hit by it a second time. He ran. Hard, fast, painful as it was, he ran flat out. Behind him, over the roaring in his ears, he heard Brian shout, "Keep your straight-A's, brain-case! You're a loser, Sam Winchester! Got that? Loser!"

- - - - -