There was a big Poltergeist problem in Amherst Massachusetts; at least that's what John told the boys as they drove east from Indiana. It was probably going to take a while to get rid of it, since John usually had help on these kinds of cases, and right now he only had Sam and Dean. The settled into a little one story house with two bedrooms not too far from the schools the boys would be attending right after Thanksgiving of Dean's junior year.

"We'll be here for a while," Dean said, jumping over the back of the possibly fourth hand sofa Dad had brought home from the Goodwill for thirty bucks. "So, if you can not get beaten up in the first week of school, it would be great. I don't want to have to kill any eighth graders."

"Shut up," Sam said rolling his eyes. "You don't even know the whole story and you get in fights with people all the time."

"Yeah," Dean answered, smirking. "But I always win. You want me to teach you some actual fighting skills?"

"No," Sam huffed. "You've taught me enough."

"They why didn't you just take the kid?" Dean asked.

"Just drop it," Sam sighed. "Before Dad gets home and hears you talking about me getting beat up and makes me go shoot things."

Dean chuckled to himself and put his feet up on the coffee table. "Yeah, alright, Sammy."

Dean grabbed the remote and started to flick through the channels, mostly to see how many they got. Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to his book.

"You're really almost done reading that?" Dean asked. "You started it three days ago."

Sam looked up at his big brother, face painted with the annoyance that only someone interrupted while reading can have. "I can read in the car."

"It took me a year to read those."

"I read faster than you," Sam shrugged and looked back down to his book. "I'd rather read than clean weapons I already cleaned four times just to make sure they're clean."

"Clean weapons are important," Dean said defensively. "You don't need a gun blowing up when you're face to face with something that could eat you."

"It would hurt less when it started to eat you if you were dead," Sam said with a complete lack of humor in his voice.

"That wasn't funny, Sam."

"Wasn't trying to be funny," Sam sighed. "I'm goin' into the room to read. Let me know when Dad comes back with dinner, alright."

"Yeah," Dean nodded as Sam stood up walked sullenly toward the bedroom. "No problem."

The buzz was already flying around Dean's new high school about prom. It wasn't even Christmas yet, but the girls were ready to explode discussing dress colors and what the theme should be. Dean sat behind a table of these girls at lunch, wishing his dad let him bring one of his hand guns to school so he could shot himself in the head. Their voices were that torturous high pitch squeak that girls made when they got to excited. Don't get him wrong, Dean loved girls, he just didn't love large groups of girls sitting together in one spot.

"You have that 'please kill me now' look on your face," said a body in an unbuttoned plaid shirt with a gray t-shirt underneath standing in front of him.

Dean let his eyes wander upward to see the pretty face and the dishwater blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun.

"Well," Dean nodded. "That's what I'm thinking… so… yeah."

"You're new right?" she asked taking a seat next to him. "I'm Olivia."

"Dean," he nodded.

"Are they talking about prom again?" Olivia inquired, taking a seat next to him.

Dean nodded.

"They've been talking about prom since sixth grade when they learned it was a thing," Olivia explained. "It's only gotten worse as it gets closer. I'm ashamed that I live in a world where four girls who spend most of their days discussing how attractive Leonardo DiCaprio is and debating Backstreet Boys versus NSync get to make choices about my academic life."

"At least they aren't deciding your future," Dean shrugged, talking a long slow drink from his coke can.

"So where are you from?" Olivia asked.

"Originally," Dean said tilting his head to one side. " Kansas."

"What on earth brought you to Mass?" Olivia chuckled.

"Dad needed a change of scenery," Dean shrugged. "Little brother was causing too much trouble at our old school. He's huge trouble maker, my little brother."

"Wonder where he gets it from," Olivia smirked eyeing Dean's well-worn leather jacket that once belonged to his father and ripped jeans with grease stains from working on the Impala running down the leg. Dean turned to look at her, the smirk on his face matching hers.

"I don't know," Dean shrugged. "Just a bad seed I guess."

The bell rang and everyone around them started to grab at their bags and rushed toward the door. Dean was going to wait until everyone cleared out, he had the excuse of being new and getting lost for being late for class; not that he'd be paying much attention to what was being said anyway.

"Look," Olivia said standing up. "There's a group of us that like to hang out in the park. There's a bon fire and sometimes some beer depending on who's of age sibling is around. You should join us."

"I don't know where the park is," Dean said.

"I can show you," Olivia smiled.

"I gotta bring my brother home," Dean replied. "Make sure he's all good and stuff, feed him, make sure he doesn't go crazy and whatever."

"It's usually later," Olivia shrugged. "If you want, we can meet up at the Pizza joint on Triangle Street say 7:30. If you're not there I'll go without you; if you are then cool beans."

"I don't know where that is either," Dean confessed.

"Other side of the fields, toward the University, you'll see it," Olivia smiled

"Alright," Dean nodded.

"See ya later," Olivia waved and disappeared into the crowd of students.

"You met a girl, didn't you?" Sam sighed. "That's why you want to ditch me and go hang out with a group of random people you don't know."

"I made a friend," Dean said calmly.

"A friend with boobs?" Sam asked.

"Yes, Sammy" Dean nodded. "She had boobs, calm down."

"And she's really pretty?" Sam said cocking his head to the side. "And popular? And already hopelessly in love with you?"

"No," Dean scoffed. "I mean she's hot, but she's not in love with me, I talked to her for, like, a minute."

Sam shrugged. "Usually our first day at a new school, we hang out together, watch movies, and play cards and stuff. Talk about how lame this school is compared to the last one, since neither of us know anybody."

"We'll do it tomorrow," Dean said. "You're always talking about making friends. I can make friends, too."

"Can I go with you?" Sam asked.

"To a bonfire?" Dean chuckled. "No, Sammy, not 'til you can shave."

"Sam," he huffed a full body sigh. "What do you want me to tell Dad if he calls or comes home?"

"Make something up," Dean answered. "Tell him the truth, I don't care."

"You're not supposed to leave me alone."

"You're thirteen," Dean said seriously. "You're smart enough not to answer the door and to call me if anything weird or bad happens. You can spend a couple hours alone without killing yourself or burning down the house. You have homework, right?"

Sam nodded.

"You can do that!" Dean declared. "Or read an entire book while I'm gone for two hours, whatever floats your boat. When you want to hang out with the friends you make here, I'll make sure you can. How about that?"

"I guess," Sam shrugged.

"I'll get dinner ready," Dean said turning into the kitchen. "We can play cards while it's cooking, I'll take you to the movies over the weekend if Dad's not home. If he comes back, I'll take you the next available weekend. I promise. I'll get you all the movie snacks you want. "

"Okay," Sam replied. "I'll cover for you. But if this girl becomes a regular thing, you have to tell dad, cuz I'm not making a bunch of stuff up like I did for you in Georgia last year."

"I will tell Dad if I make friends," Dean rolled his eyes. "I don't see this getting serious, just some friends."

It was pretty mild for early December in Massachusetts, the harsh wind that usually comes with winter hadn't shown up yet, no heavy winter jackets or mittens needed as he walked with Olivia to a park in the middle of the city.

Olivia pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket as they walked and offered one to Dean.

"No thanks," Dean shook his head. "I don't… you know… do… that."

"Suit yourself," Olivia shrugged, pulling out one for herself and placing the pack back in her pocket. She pulled out a pink Bic lighter lit up and dropped that back in her pocket as well.

"So who's gonna be there," Dean asked, trying to fill a semi awkward silence.

"Just some guys," Olivia answered. "Like, three people we go to school with, seniors, everyone else either graduated or just don't go to school anymore. You'll fit in. It's not the typical group of high school kids. We're sorta over it, ya now."

"Totally," Dean nodded like he understood what she meant.

"My parents think I'm going to go to UMass and become wicked successful," Olivia continued. "But I just wanna paint and write and make music and live in the moment. I couldn't give two shits about being successful. I'm not gonna become one of those drones that just exists without living."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I totally understand."

"Really?" Olivia turned and started to walk backward so she could walk and look at Dean at the same time.

"I… yeah," Dean said. "A life on the road; that's kinda how my dad and brother and me have been livin' since we lost my mom. Letting to road guide us, take us wherever. It's a nice life."

"That's what I'm talking about," Olivia's eyes lit up. "I wanna through a dart at a map and move there and just live, live on music and art. But my parents, they think I have to have a degree and a husband and a family. I think that's all wicked over rated."

Dean wasn't really sure how to take this girl. She seemed really serious about what she was saying, but at the same time sounded slightly insane. He got the sentiment, honestly, the whole letting the wind guide you wherever it wanted. Olivia seemed like a nice girl, pretty, Dean felt like he could really make something happen with her, but if she was crazy… well… he'd have to get away a quickly as possible. He'd done crazy before, and crazy girls got clingy and he didn't need that in his life. He didn't know how long they'd live in this town; he'd have to figure out Olivia's psyche quickly before anything got serious.

The fire pit was pretty much what Olivia had described, a bunch of kids in their late teens and twenties, drinking and laughing in the woods. There was one guy, whom Olivia introduced as Kevin, playing the guitar and singing a cheesy love ballad Dean had heard countless times on the radio whenever Sam was in charge of the music. The girls seemed very into it though. Olivia waved to a couple sitting across from Kevin and sat down next to them, Dean followed suit.

"This is Maggie and her brother Tim," Olivia told him as she opened the cooler between her and Maggie. She had handed Dean a beer bottle. "Please don't tell me you're one of those weirdos that doesn't drink either."

"No," Dean chuckled, taking the beer from her and twisting the cap open. "Not one of those guys, don't worry."

"Good," Olivia smiled. "Tim's a junior at the University; he's responsible for most of the alcohol you'll see here tonight."

"Thanks, man" Dean said, tipping his bottle toward Tim.

"So where'd you find this one, Libby," Maggie giggled giving Dean a once over.

"School cafeteria," Olivia answered. "He was listening to the prom squad at lunch, looked about ready to kill himself, figured I'd save him."

"I like him," Maggie said leaning back.

"I found him first," Olivia teased. "Maybe if you bothered going to school you could have claimed him for yourself."

"I'm right here," Dean said, but neither girl bothered to pay him any attention.

"Don't worry," Tim said leaning forward. "They sometimes forget that other people exist when they start talking to each other. Don't feel bad. They have their own little world."

"Interesting," Dean nodded slowly.

"You get used to it," Tim shrugged. "Eventually they realize other people exist again and include them in conversation."

"Are you making fun of us?" Maggie said, punching her brother in the arm, hard.

"He wasn't," Dean defended. "Just explaining how you two work."

"Don't believe anything he says," Olivia smiled. "He lies wicked bad."

"All the time," Maggie added, laughing. "It's wicked horrible."

Dean nodded, he wasn't really sure if he understood what they'd just said, but he was going to play along. If he was going to live here for a while, it was best to act like he fit in, and so far, out of all the places they'd lived and all the people he'd hung around with, these people seemed to be the most like his kind of people than anyone else.

Tim dug into his pockets and pulled out a plastic bag.

"I'm gonna have smoke, you guys wanna join?" Tim asked searching each of their faces as the spoke.

"Of course we do," Maggie said, looping her arm around Olivia's.

"You in Dean?" Olivia asked winking at him.

"I don't smoke," Dean said, pressing his eyebrows together in confusion, because he had told her literally a half hour ago that he didn't smoke.

Maggie and Olivia giggled.

"Suit yourself," Maggie said. "More for us."

Dean watched the girls and Tim pass what Dean figured to be a hand rolled cigarette back and forth between each other; inhaling deeply and coughing before passing it on in their little circle.

"You sure?" Tim asked holding it out to Dean. "It's good stuff, well, good stuff for here anyway."

"I don't… I've never…" Dean stammered.

"Just gotta inhale, hold it in, and breathe out slow," Tim said. "Try not to cough too much."

Dean did as he was instructed, but as soon as the smoke hit his lungs he couldn't help but cough like someone was choking him.

"That was seriously your first time wasn't it?" Maggie giggled.

"Leave him alone, Mags," Olivia said elbowing Maggie in the ribs. "Don't take so much in next time. It leads to a much better high. The coughing sorta ruins it."

Dean nodded and waited for his turn to come again, easier time as he slowly exhaled and watched the smoke dissipate into the trees.

"That's really, really, cool looking," Dean said.

"You've had two hit and you're high?" Maggie said rolling her eyes harder than Dean had ever seen anyone roll them.

"Virgin," Tim said, just loud enough for Dean to hear. "You ate, like, a whole frickin cake the first time I let you into my stash."

Dean listened at Tim explained how he was a Political Science major who wanted to somehow make a difference in the world and Maggie made fun of him. Maggie wanted to move to Paris and become a street artist. She'd all but dropped out of school.

"I'm just over the whole oppression of creativity," Maggie explained. "They'd rather I get a 1600 on my SATs than paint the next Starry Night. It's all just bullshit."

"Totally," Dean nodded. He felt light headed, but a good light headed, kind of like he was floating. Tim explained that this feeling was a good one.

"What do you wanna do?" Maggie asked.

"I wanna work with my dad," Dean said. "Or you, know, be a fire fighter I haven't really decided."

"That's wicked lame," Maggie rolled her eyes. "Where did you find him Libby?"

"No, shut up," Dean said. "My dad's really good at his job. He, like, saves people and shit. I wanna be like that."

"What does he do?" Olivia and Maggie asked in unison.

"I'd tell you, but I'd have to kill you," Dean winked. "It's sorta a family secret. I'm not supposed talk about it."

"Like a spy?" Maggie said leaning over Olivia toward Dean.

"That's what I used to tell my brother when he was really little," Dean smirked. "Easier to explain."

"Why a fire fighter," Tim asked bringing this beer bottle to his lips. "I gave up that wish when I was, like, six."

Dean watched the dirt move as he kicked at it.

"Umm…" he started. "When I was a kid there was a fire, and my mom, and I don't really wanna talk about it."

"Sorry," Olivia said pressing her head against his shoulder.

"It's cool," Dean shrugged. "It was a long time ago. I just, you know, wanna honor her, and stuff."

"I take it back, Libby," Maggie said. "He's mysterious and sexy and sweet, not boring and lame at all."

"Thanks," Dean laughed.

The four ended up sharing two joints and a twelve pack by midnight, when Dean decided it was best if he got home so he could check on his brother.

"I'll give you a ride," Tim said, packing up the cooler. "Things are dying down around her anyway."

"Is that a good idea?" Dean asked, knowing that Tim had more to drink and definitely smoked more that he did.

"I'm good," Tim said. "I do it all the time. We're to do you live?"

"On the street next to the high school," Dean said. "Like right around the corner."

"Cool beans," Tim said, standing up. "Mags grab the cooler we're dropping Dean off on the way home."

The Impala in the driveway nearly gave Dean a heart attack. He slowly got out of Tim's trunk and walked up the driveway, trying his best to be quiet as he unlocked the door and snuck through the kitchen.

"Sam told me where you went," John's sleepy voice said from the couch. "If you stay out this late again, whether I'm home or not, you're grounded, which means no hunting. Understand me?"

"Yes sir," Dean said quickly. "How'd the recon go?"

"Gotta pretty good handle on what we're looking at," John said sitting up and turning to look over the couch. "Really wish I had another experienced hand with me, but whatcha gonna do?" John shrugged, and then looked directly at Dean. "Are you fucking high? You reek."

"I am not high," Dean shook his head, trying to keep his eyes wide open because he remembered how Tim's eye lids were droopy. "Definitely not high. No drugs."

"You're a moron," John sighed. "I don't like these kids you're hanging out with. Find new friends."

"I like these friends," Dean smiled to himself. "And you don't even know them. You haven't met them."

"That shit fries your brain cells," John said seriously. "And I don't want it in my house. I don't need Sammy exposed to that kind of shit. You understand me?"

"I understand," Dean nodded.

"Go to bed, you have school in the morning," John sighed, laying back down. "Don't wake up your brother."

Dean nodded and walked to his bedroom. He was going to fit in here. He felt like he could be himself around this group of kids. He didn't have to be someone else because they were expecting the badass or the punk, he didn't have to fake it. He liked that idea. Hopefully the poltergeist thing took longer than their dad figured it would. He wanted to stay in town for a while, and that was feel ing he hadn't had since they lived in Mississippi when he was twelve. It was nice, unfamiliar. He could get used to it.

AN: Okay, so I got big plans for the next couple chapters. I've been waiting to write this part pretty much since I started writing this story in October. I hope you guys will like it.