Dean drove hurriedly back to the motel, and Andrew sat in the back seat, stunned, scared, and in denial. There was no way in the world that what he saw was real. No way in the world that he had seen a little girl with a pink ballet ensemble on, hair pulled back in a pink ribbon, with skin so pale that it shone like moonlight. No. Sam and Dean were pulling something over on him. They had to have something hooked up, something that projected the image, a recorder of some kind that gave a voice to the projection. No. Everything could be explained. There was no way in the world that what he saw could even be close to true.

"So how did you guys do it?"

"Do what?" Sam asked glancing away from the window.

"How did you get that projection of the girl?" Dean sighed loudly and shook his head.

"Dude, seriously? You're still not believing that we just tangled with a ghost?"

"With technology now a days…"

"Don't. Just save it. I don't want to hear it. I don't know what else we have to do to prove to you that ghost and monsters are real."

Andrew crossed his arms and sighed. "This is ridiculous."

"I second that."

They ended back up at the motel. Sam said goodnight to the elderly man and Dean just grabbed his duffel bag and walked by him without so much as a "fuck off old man". The door slammed shut behind Dean and Andrew went to his own room, determined that after a good night's sleep he was going to get his ass back in his car and skip out on the two crazy men who shared a family name.

SNSNSNSNSNS

He didn't get a chance to skip out on Sam and Dean. Dean was at his door the following morning before the sun came up, and greeted him with a simple, "get your ass in the car, we've got interviews to do." Turned and started walking away.

"No. I'm not getting back on the crazy bus. I'm not doing this anymore." Dean swung around and glared.

"Oh yes you are old man. You are not going to do a hunt half assed. You wanted to see how this was done, and then you accused me and Sam of trying to pull the wool over your eyes. You don't get to keep saying things like that to me. You are going to get in there and get a shower, you are going to be out here and dressed in a half an hour." Andrew stood up a little straighter and tried not to respond with a "Yes sir." Basic training was the last time he had been dressed down like that, and the fact that he had just been dressed down by his much younger grandson was…annoying. But nevertheless he found himself closing the door and heading for the shower, he couldn't understand why, maybe it was morbid curiosity, maybe it was for his wife who had wanted to know her grandsons, or maybe, just maybe he had spent some serious time last night thinking about what he saw last night in the dance studio, and found himself believing if even just a little bit.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

They arrived at the dance studio just as the instructor/owner was unlocking her doors. Sam smiled and dug for his FBI badge, introduced himself and said, "I'm so sorry to hear about losing one of your students."

The dance instructor's already red puffy eyes began to spill over with tears. "She's the fifth one in the last year."

"Fifth? We were under the impression that there were only four deaths."

She shook her head and crossed her arms. Sam reached in his breast pocket and pulled a handkerchief seemingly out of nowhere and handed it to the woman. She wiped her eyes and handed it to him, Sam indicated that she should keep it.

"No, Lilly makes five. Lilly and the other three have been within the last six months, but Andrea-Andrea was the first. She died about a year ago, right before a major competition, she was a shoe in. She was so good, so graceful, so beautiful. But she fell down a flight of stairs, and she died. Snapped her neck. All of that talent…that little spirit was just gone."

"Is that a yearly competition?" Dean asked.

"Yes. All of the girls who just passed were entered in it for various kinds of dancing. I'm not sure what to do. Emily is the only one left. I don't know if I want her to go. It feels cursed."

Sam and Dean finished up with the woman and headed back to the car.

"What do we do now?" Andrew asked.

"We protect the kid, and we dig up the bones and salt and burn them. Can't have this little girl after anyone else."

"Dig up the body?"

"Yeah."

"Then you salt and burn it?"

"Yeah." Dean said nonchalantly and headed down the road.

"This doesn't seem wrong to you?"

"Nope." Sam said and looked at Dean. "Rock paper scissors for who has to dig?"

"Flip a coin."

"You always win the coin toss." Sam borderline whined.

"You always win rock paper scissors." Dean countered.

While the two of them argued about the method in which they would chose who would have to get dirty, Andrew sat back in his seat still taken aback by the whole idea of digging up a body.