December 10th, 2008 - Fairfax, Indiana
They were looking into a case involving a girl who had suddenly gone crazy and drowned another girl in a toilet at their high school. Amy sat in the backseat of the Impala as they waited for Sam to come back from questioning the suspect, who had claimed to be possessed during the ordeal.
Dean was absent mindedly flipping through his dad's journal, looking for anything that might be helpful. He closed the journal as the passenger door opened, turning his attention to Sam.
"So?" Dean asked.
Sam cleared his throat. "I think she's telling the truth," he said. "I mean, the way she talked about being there mentally but not physically. Kind of sounds like demonic possession to me."
"Kind of?" Dean echoed.
"She didn't see any black smoke or smell sulfur," Sam explained.
"So, not a demon, then?" Amy asked.
"Kids can be vicious," Dean pointed out.
"Well, I mean, we're already here." Sam sighed. "Might as well check out the school."
Dean paused for a while. "Right," he finally said. "The school."
"What?" Sam asked.
"Truman High, home of the Bombers," Dean continued with fake enthusiasm.
"What's your point?" Sam asked.
"I mean, we went there, like... for a month a million years ago. Why are you so jazzed to go back?" Dean asked.
"I'm not," Sam defended. "I just think it's worth looking into."
Dean nodded. "All right, well, what's our cover? FBI? Homeland Security? Swedish exchange students?"
"Dean, do you even know any Swedish?" Amy asked.
"Well...no," Dean admitted.
"Don't worry. I got an idea," Sam informed them.
"You, uh, mind sharing that idea?" Amy asked.
Sam nodded. "I will," he promised. "When we get back to the motel."
Dean nodded, a little unnerved by his brother's tone. "Okay," he finally said as he started up the engine and drove away from the mental hospital.
When they got back to the motel, Sam opened up his laptop and began working on something.
After a while, Sam cleared his throat. "Okay."
"Can we finally hear this plan?" Amy asked.
"I figured out a way to get us into the school," Sam explained. "School gym teacher is getting married in Massachusetts, so they're looking for a new one."
"I can take that one," Dean offered.
Sam nodded. "And as of five minutes ago, their janitor won an all-expenses-paid trip to the Bahamas. I'll take his place. We should be starting on Friday."
"And what about me?" Amy asked.
"I found the records for a student named Amelia Wilson. Homeschooled until now, but recently transferred to Truman High."
"I'm going back to school?" Amy asked. She groaned. "Come on, I already escaped Hell before I met you, I don't want to go back."
Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the mention of Hell.
"Sorry, Dean," Amy apologized. She turned back to Sam. "Isn't there something else I could do?"
Sam shook his head. "Nothing that would make sense. I know you're nineteen, but you do look like you're around fourteen or fifteen. You'd blend right in with the other students."
"Fine," Amy said reluctantly. "But don't expect me to enjoy it."
"I didn't say you had to," Sam told her. "It'll only be for a week or so until we can figure this out. Deal?"
Amy sighed. "Deal," she agreed reluctantly. "What classes will I be taking?"
"Algebra, Chemistry, History, P.E., the usual," Sam listed. He handed Amy his laptop. "You just need to choose two electives you want to take."
"Can do," Amy said as she took Sam's laptop. She scrolled through the list of electives until one, in particular, caught her eye. "They have a creative writing class?" she asked. "That was one I wish we had at my school."
"Creative writing, huh?" Dean asked.
Amy shrugged as she checked off the box. "I like writing," she admitted.
Amy read through the other electives, checking the box next to the theater class, before handing the paper back to Sam.
"Okay," Sam said. "Your first class starts tomorrow. We'll take you to the store sometime today to get what you need."
"Come on, man, she doesn't need anything," Dean protested.
"She'll be taking classes, Dean," Sam argued. "She'll need supplies and a backpack."
"I actually agree with Sam," Amy added. "If I'm gonna be going to school, I'll need to look the part, right?"
Dean groaned. "Fine. But we're only getting the basics. Pencils, erasers, and a few notebooks. Sam, she can borrow your backpack, right?" he asked, gesturing to the black backpack leaning against the wall.
Sam nodded. "Yeah, that's fine."
Amy dug around in her bag for her wallet. "I've got twenty bucks," she informed them, "that should be enough to get what I need. The Target down the street closes in a few hours. I can walk down there and buy my supplies."
"Okay," Dean said. "I'll drive you."
Amy rolled her eyes. "Dean, it's just a block or so down the street. You can see it from the motel room. I don't mind walking."
"By yourself?"
"I'm an adult, Dean. I can walk down a sidewalk. Besides, I used to walk home from school all the time, and that was at least two or three miles."
"Didn't you take the bus or get picked up by your guardian?" Sam asked.
"I got picked up during elementary and middle school," Amy explained. "But I joined a swim team in high school, so I had to take the sports bus home. Sometimes I missed it and just decided to walk home instead."
Dean looked at his watch. "Well, if you're gonna go to the store today, you better get going before it closes."
Amy stuck her wallet and cell phone in her jacket pocket. "See you guys in a little while."
"Be careful," Dean told her.
Amy didn't reply as she walked out of the motel room and started her walk down the street.
It was a twenty-minute walk to the store. Amy grabbed a basket on her way in and made a beeline towards the school supplies.
Amy grabbed a pack of mechanical pencils and an extra pack of lead to go with them, along with a pack of erasers. She stuck a binder in the basket along with them and then turned to the notebooks. She grabbed five different colored notebooks for her core classes and dropped them in the basket along with everything us.
After grabbing the basics, she added up the prices of what she had. Figuring she had plenty left over, she grabbed a calculator and some binder paper before making her way to the check out line.
"Find everything okay?" the cashier asked.
Amy nodded as she pulled the twenty-dollar bill from her wallet. "Yes," she said.
"Sixteen fifty-one," the cashier told her.
Amy handed over the twenty dollars, and the cashier handed over her change and bags. Having only spent ten minutes in the store, Amy began the twenty-minute walk back to the motel.
"That was fast," Sam told her as she entered the motel room.
"Yeah, it was a pretty short walk to the store." Amy placed the bags on her bed. "Can I go ahead and put these in the backpack, then?"
Sam nodded. "Go for it."
"Where's Dean?" Amy asked as she emptied her shopping bags.
"Went out to get us something to eat," Sam explained.
Amy spent some time getting her supplies ready. Sometime later, Dean returned with cheeseburgers, beer, and pie.
"What time do my classes start tomorrow?" Amy asked as she took a burger. "And don't I have to get, you know, registered?"
"Seven-thirty," Dean told her. "And don't worry. Amelia Wilson is already registered. You're just taking her place."
Amy nodded. "Got it." She sighed. "Just when I thought I was done with school, I get dragged back in."
December 11th, 2008 - Truman High
The next morning, Dean drove her to the school. The Impala idled in front of the tall building as Amy stared up at it, hesitant to get out.
"You okay?" Dean asked.
"Yeah," Amy replied, nodding, "I just...I didn't exactly have the best experiences at my high school."
"Hey, you'll be okay," Dean assured her. "Remember, it's only for a week, maybe less. Then we'll leave, and you can put all of this behind you."
Amy sighed. "Yeah, you're right."
"Besides," Dean continued. "This definitely isn't the Amy we've come to know over the past year."
Amy smirked. "Oh yeah? And, uh, who is the Amy you've come to know over the past year?"
"Well, I'm pretty sure the Amy we've gotten to know is confident, doesn't let anyone get in her way and push her down, is willing and brave enough to stand up for herself." He paused. "You'll be okay," he repeated. "I know you will."
Amy smiled. "You're right." She grabbed the strap of her backpack. "I better get going. See you later?"
"I'll be here when you get out. And don't forget what we're really here for," Dean said. "Keep an eye out for anything that could help us with this case, if there even is a case. I'll be by this afternoon to pick you up."
Amy nodded as she opened the car door. "Will do. Later, Dean." She climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind her as Dean sped off.
Amy walked into the school, looking around for the main office. She quickly spotted it, not far from the main entrance, and headed inside.
"Can I help you?" the woman behind the counter asked.
"Uh, yeah, I'm new," Amy explained. "I was told to come here and get my schedule."
"Name?" the woman asked, pulling out a folder.
"Amelia Jon-," Amy quickly corrected herself, "uh, Amelia Wilson."
The woman pulled out a sheet of paper. "Here you are. Your locker number is 109. The combination is on the back of your schedule. What size gym uniform are you?"
"Uh, small," Amy replied.
The woman handed her a uniform consisting of a white shirt and red shorts.
"Thank you." Amy headed back out to the hallway before looking at the paper she was given. Each class was fifty-five minutes long, with a ten-minute break after the second class and a half-hour lunch after her fourth, getting her out for the day by two-thirty.
Her first class was Creative Writing with Ms. Thompson. The class began in ten minutes, but first, she needed to find her locker. Amy started her walk down the long hallway.
'106, 107, 108...' Amy quickly found her locker and put the combination in, opening it on the first try. She stood there, staring into the empty locker.
'Why did I come here?' she wondered to herself. 'I don't even have any books to put in the locker. What was even the point of this?' She sighed, closing the empty locker back up again before looking at the schedule again.
"First day?" someone asked.
Amy turned around to see a boy standing behind her, smiling. "Is it that obvious?"
"Pretty much," the boy said. "I'm Eric." He held out his hand.
Amy shook Eric's hand. "Amy," she introduced herself.
"What class are you going to?" Eric asked.
"Creative Writing," Amy replied.
"With Ms. Thompson?"
"Uh, yeah," Amy confirmed.
"What a coincidence," Eric told her. "I'm heading to that class as well. I'll walk you."
"So, did you just move here?" Eric asked as they walked down the hall.
"Kinda," Amy replied. "I was homeschooled until recently."
"Homeschooled?" Eric echoed. "Wow. What was that like?"
"Kinda boring, to be honest," Amy said, making up everything as she went. "I didn't exactly sit in a classroom filled with people I could talk to or sit with at lunch."
"Well, first day, and you already know one person," Eric said.
"You got a point there."
They reached the classroom and walked in. A woman was writing something on a chalkboard. She turned her head towards the door as Amy and Eric walked in.
"You must be Amelia Wilson," Ms. Thompson said, walking up to them, "or do you prefer Amy."
"Uh, Amy's fine."
"I'm Ms. Thompson," her teacher said. "I'll be your Creative Writing teacher this semester." Before Amy could say anything else, Ms. Thompson walked her over to the front of the room.
'Please don't make the grand announcement, please don't make the grand announcement.'
"Class?" Ms. Thompson addressed the class, who all turned to face her. "This is Amelia Wilson. She'll be joining our class for the remainder of our school year."
Amy tried to ignore the silent stares she got from the other students.
"Okay. Why don't you go on ahead and take your seat next to Mr. Sutton in the back."
Amy nodded and began making her way down the aisle. Students continued to stare at her as she sat down next to Eric. She averted her gaze towards her desk, silently hoping they would stop.
Most of the class was spent with classmates going up to the front of the classroom to read what they had written the night before.
Amy tapped on Eric's shoulder, leaning towards him so he could hear her. "Do we have to do this every class?" she whispered.
"You mean, read our paper to the entire class?" Eric asked. Amy nodded. "Yeah, but don't worry. You'll get used to it."
Amy didn't say anything as she sat back up, her mind flashing back to her real time at high school before meeting Sam and Dean.
October 22nd, 2014 - Bell High School
Amy sat in her sophomore English classroom, anxiously tapping her foot as her teacher droned on. They had been given a creative essay assignment earlier that week, and now had to read them to the class.
The teen looked up as her name was finally called. She took a deep breath and made her way up to the front of the class, trying to avoid the several pairs of eyes that seemed to stare into her soul.
Amy clutched her paper tightly as her heart pounded in her chest. No one was even paying attention to her anyway. Half the class was on their phone, and the others were whispering amongst themselves. Her teacher sat in the back of the class, a pen in his hands as he waited for Amy to start reading.
Amy began reading the words in front of her. The words seemed to disappear from the page as she tried to get through. She knew she was reading too fast, and that she was mumbling, but she just wanted it to be over. Her hands trembled as she neared the end of the paper, and she let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding as she finally read the last word.
Her teacher didn't say anything, or if she did, Amy didn't hear it. She just wanted to sit back down. Finally, her teacher nodded, pointing his red pen towards her chair. Without another word, Amy walked down the aisle of desks, her eyes aimed towards the floor as her teacher called the next student up to read.
December 11th, 2008 - Truman High
Amy had been so focused on the anxiety she felt when she had to stand in front of an entire class, that she barely noticed that class was almost over. Eric nudged her shoulder to get her attention when Ms. Thompson began assigning the homework.
"Your homework tonight is to write about a time you felt different or alone," Ms. Thompson told them as the bell began to ring. "This will be handwritten and due tomorrow."
Amy grabbed her bag and followed the class out the door.
"Hey, Amy, what class do you have next?" Eric asked as he caught up with her.
Amy looked at her schedule and groaned. "Algebra. Room 208."
"Man, tough break," Eric said. "I've got P.E. next."
"Looks like I don't have that 'til after lunch."
"Room 208 is down that way." Eric pointed down the hall behind Amy. He pointed behind himself next. "Gym is this way for when that class comes up. I'll come find you at lunch if I don't see you again before."
"Cool, thanks," Amy said. She started walking down the hallway towards her next class. "See ya."
Algebra class seemed to go on forever. After the class was over, Amy slipped into an empty classroom, pulling out her phone to call Dean during the break.
"Hey, Amy," Dean greeted through the phone.
"Hey, you guys find anything out yet?" Amy asked.
"Nothing yet," Dean informed her. "What about you?"
"No, nothing. But, hey, I wanted to call you while I had a chance because I was thinking. What if it's not a demon we're going after?"
There was a pause on the other line. "Hold on," Dean said after a moment, "I'm gonna put you on speaker."
A brief moment later, Sam's voice came through. "Hey, Amy, what were you just saying?"
"I said, what if it's not a demon we're going after," Amy repeated.
"What do you mean?" Dean asked.
"Well, ghosts, if they get angry enough, can possess people, right?" Amy asked, pacing up and down in front of the chalkboard.
"Well, I mean, they would have to get really angry, but it is technically speaking possible."
"Do you really think we could be dealing with a ghost possession?" Dean asked.
"Well, I mean, think about it," Amy replied. "No sulfur, no black smoke, but that girl at the hospital swore up and down she was possessed. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, but check to see if anyone died at this school. I've gotta get to my next class, but I'll call you guys when I'm at lunch."
"Okay, we'll look into it," Sam said, "bye, Amy."
"Bye, guys." Amy hung up her phone as the bell indicating the end of the short break ended. She left the classroom and checked her schedule. The theater class was next in room 210, right next to her math class.
Amy made it to her next class with seconds to spare. Theater was a class she was actually happy to take. Public speaking was a big no-no for her, but when she was on stage, pretending to be someone she wasn't all those fears seemed to vanish.
She poked her head inside the large classroom. Twenty chairs sat bunched together in a group near the back, leaving a wide, open space in the front. A woman sat behind a desk as the students filed in.
"Are you Mrs. Perrin," Amy asked.
"Yes," the woman replied, extending her hand, "you must be Ms. Wilson. Welcome."
"That's me," Amy confirmed.
"I won't go through the grand introduction that I'm sure you've already gone through today, so you can go ahead and find an empty seat."
Amy sat down, and the class began.
They did a lot of improv during the class, something Amy just happened to be good at. She stood in front of the class, as she and another boy in the class improvised a scene together. The scene they were making up, ironically, included ghosts. Another student, Alex, was playing the part of the spirit Amy's character couldn't see. Alex stood off to the side, near an open door, waiting for the right moment to slam it closed
"You've gone mad," Amy said in a British accent as she folded her arms. She wasn't sure where the accent had come from. It was just something that came to her at the last moment. "Absolutely mad."
"I - I haven't, I swear," Henry stuttered. "Please, just listen to me."
Amy crossed the room, getting in Henry's face. "Listen to you? You want me to listen to the insane story that you can see ghosts, Charles? Ghosts. Don't. Exist."
"I know you don't believe me, but it's true," Henry insisted. "Just let me prove it to you, please."
Amy huffed, turning around, so her back was to Henry. "I'm going out for a walk," she said calmly. "When I get back, I want you to either forget all of this nonsense about ghosts or leave."
"Helen, please," Henry insisted, grabbing Amy's arm, "just listen for one second. He turned to Alex. "Please do something, Elena!" he pleaded. "Help me."
Alex rolled her eyes and slammed the door closed. It slammed shut with a loud bang.
Amy looked at the door, getting a fearful look on her face. "What the hell was that?" she asked.
"Elena," Henry informed her, "I told you I wasn't lying."
Amy shook her head. "It was obviously the wind or something."
"Well, can wind do that?" Henry asked, pointing to the back of the room.
Amy looked to where Henry was pointing to see Alex walking towards her, balancing a book on her head, and carrying a vase in one hand and water pitcher in the other. She got an even more fearful look on her face as Alex got closer. Amy let out a blood-curdling scream, falling to the ground as the lights in the classroom came back on.
"Where on earth did you learn how to do that?" Ms. Perrin asked as Amy stood back up.
"I grew up with a lot of older and younger sisters," Amy explained. "We used to make up plays all the time and perform them when we got bored. We'd make props and costumes out of whatever we could find and then just...act out the scenes we had written."
Amy called Sam and Dean back after her History class.
"Hey, I'm at lunch now," she informed them as Dean answered the phone, "so I can talk a bit longer. You guys find anything?"
"Yeah," Dean confirmed, "looks like you were right. Some kid named Barry Cook died in that school. Slit his wrists in the first-floor girl's bathroom."
"Barry Cook?" Amy asked.
Sam's voice came through the speaker. "Yeah, he was a student when Dean and I attended that school. He had a pretty hard time. Got bullied a lot."
"Does murdering people sound like something he would do, though?" Amy asked.
Sam sighed. "I don't know," he admitted.
"Either way," Dean continued. "If there's a chance that there's a ghost at the school, we gotta get rid of it. Skip the rest of your classes. Sammy and I will find out where Barry is buried, and then I'll be by after lunch to pick you up so we can go torch some bones."
"Okay," Amy replied. "Sounds good."
"Nice work, Amy," Dean praised before hanging up.
Amy hurried off to the cafeteria. She walked inside, grabbing a tray for her food. After getting her lunch, she turned around, searching through the crowd for Eric.
A waving hand gathered her attention. Amy looked over to see Eric waving her over to the table where he was sitting with a group of friends. She quickly made her way over.
"Hey, there you are," Eric said as she approached. "What took you so long?"
"Had to make a phone call," Amy explained.
They talked about how their day had been so far, but not much else. After lunch, Amy didn't go to her last two classes, instead choosing to slip into the girl's bathroom and wait for Dean's text that he was outside.
The text came ten minutes later. Amy checked to make sure the coast was clear before hurrying down the empty hallway and out the front entrance.
"So, Barry is buried in a cemetery not too far from here," Dean explained. "We're gonna go ahead and head out there right now. Hopefully, burning these bones puts a stop to all this."
Amy nodded. "Yeah, hopefully."
Fairfax Cemetery
They reached the cemetery twenty minutes later. Dean handed Amy a shovel as he and Sam took one for themselves before the three hunters made their way inside.
Amy walked down a row of graves as she searched for Barry's name on any of them. Sam and Dean walked down the other rows on the other sides of her.
"Hey guys," Sam called out. "Think I found something."
Amy hurried over with Dean to find Sam standing in front of a grave, which read:
Barry Cook
1983-1998
Amy sighed. "Poor kid," she muttered.
"Yeah," Sam agreed quietly.
"Alright," Dean said, "let's get this over with."
The grave was only big enough for two people, so they took turns digging. Night was starting to fall as Amy stood in the grave with Sam as she helped him dig. She was just about to switch with Dean, when her shovel hit the coffin.
Amy and Sam exchanged a glance before Amy hopped out of the grave to let Sam open the coffin. Sam struck the wood a few times with his shovel until it cracked open, before climbing out of the grave as well.
Amy gagged and cover her mouth as the stench began to reach her nostrils. Most of the flesh was still attached to the skeleton, which only made it look more grotesque.
"Ugh," Dean gagged, "let's get this over with."
Amy poured salt on the body as Sam poured lighter fluid over it. When they were done, Dean lit a match, dropping it into the grave.
"So long, Barry Cook," Dean said as the body burst into flames. Amy let the heat from the fire warm her up, rubbing her hands together as the cold air whipped around them.
When the flames finally died down, Amy helped Sam and Dean shovel the dirt back into the grave. She followed them back to the car, placing her shovel in the trunk of the Impala before climbing into the backseat. Sam and Dean got into the front, and Dean pulled away from the cemetery.
"You all right?" Dean asked, turning to Sam, who hadn't said a word since they had driven away from the cemetery.
Sam sighed. "Barry was my friend. I just burned his bones," he admitted.
"Well, he's at peace now, Sam."
Sam continued on. "I mean, if Dad had let us stay just a little while longer, maybe I could have helped the kid, you know?"
"You read the coroner's report, same as me," Dean reminded his brother. "Barry was on every anxiety drug and antidepressant known to man. School was hell for that kid. His parents had split up. He just wanted out. It was tragic, but it's not your fault. To tell you the truth, I'm glad we got out of that town. I hated that school."
"It wasn't all bad," Sam admitted.
Dean shot Sam a glance. "How can you say that after what happened to you?" he asked.
Sam didn't reply, as he turned his head to look out the window.
December 12th, 2008 - Truman High
"Remind me again, why we had to come back here?" Amy asked as she looked back up at the high school. "We burned Barry's bones."
"It's just a precaution," Dean told her. "We gotta make sure everything's good here before we just pack up and leave. Sam's already inside, checking the school for EMF, but until we know it's safe, we're staying an extra day or two."
Amy sighed. "Alright." She grabbed her backpack. "I better get going. See you during gym, I guess."
Dean nodded. "And remember, it's coach Roth while we're in there, and we don't know each other."
Amy nodded back. "Got it." She opened her car door. "Later, Dean." She slammed the door closed before hurrying inside the school.
Amy's classes seemed to flash by today, as she waited anxiously to get out. It wasn't until her History class, before lunch, that something finally happened.
A blood-curdling scream rang out through the school. Amy instantly kicked into hunter mode and dashed out of the room, ignoring her teacher's orders to return to the classroom as she followed the screams that continued through the halls.
Amy reached the Home Economics classroom at the same time as Sam, who was dressed in a janitor's uniform. She pushed her way through a crowd of students who were hurrying out of the same classroom. A boy inside the room collapsed to the ground just as Sam reached him. A black goo like substance began to run out of the boy's ears.
"Is that-?" Amy asked.
Sam nodded. "Ectoplasm," he confirmed. "Looks like Barry wasn't our ghost."
"Did you and Dean find any reports on someone besides Barry, who died in the school?"
Sam shook his head. "No. Barry was the only one. That we could find, at least."
"There's gotta be something we missed, then."
A school-wide, nonviolence assembly was called during lunch. Amy skipped it to search the school with Sam for EMF again, but Dean was required to attend, promising to meet up with them once he was able to sneak out.
Amy searched one side of the school while Sam searched the other. She waved her EMF meter around as she walked down the hallway, but so far, had found nothing. As she turned the corner, she spotted Sam, coming up on the other side and hurried up to him.
"Find anything?" Sam asked as she approached.
Amy shook her head. "Nada. You?"
"No, nothing," Sam replied. "Dean still in the assembly?"
"Doesn't look like it," Amy said as she spotted Dean coming up behind Sam.
Sam turned around as Dean met up with them. "How's the nonviolence assembly going?" he asked.
"Apparently, shoving a kid's arm into a Cuisinart is not a 'healthy display of anger'," Dean informed them. "So, the kid had ectoplasm leaking out his ear?"
Sam nodded. "Looks like Amy was right about it being ghost possession."
"But we were wrong about who the ghost was," Amy added. "Are you guys sure there wasn't anyone else who died in this school?"
Dean shook her head. "We checked every record. The only person who died inside this school was that kid, Barry Cook. There's gotta be something we missed." Without another word, Dean began walking towards the main entrance. Sam and Amy exchanged a glance, before following him out to the Impala.
Dean pulled out the file on Barry Cook once they were back in the car, and began reviewing it. "No way," he finally said.
"What is it?" Amy asked, leaning across the front seat to get a good look.
"Check it out." Dean started pointing to some names in the file. "Look, Martha Dumptruck and Revenge of the Nerds - they rode the same bus."
"So, what?" Sam asked. "The bus is haunted?"
Dean shrugged. "Well, that would explain why there's no EMF at the school, but not the attacks," he said. "I mean, ghosts are tied to the places that they haunt. They can't just bail."
"But if they possess a person, can't they go as far as they want?" Amy asked. "At least until they leave whoever they're possessing?"
"It's possible," Sam confirmed. "I mean, there's lore about ghosts possessing people and riding them for miles. Then, whenever they leave the body, they're bungeed back to their usual haunt. But until then, the ghost can go wherever it wants."
"So, a spook just grabs a kid on the bus and walks right into Truman?" Dean asked.
"It's possible."
Dean scoffed. "Ghosts getting creative. Well, that's super. Alright, well, we better check out this ghost before school gets out."
Within ten minutes, Amy found herself standing in the bus.
Sam pulled out his EMF and moved towards the back of the bus, a sawed-off in his hand. The EMF was buzzing, red lights flashing on the top. "Definitely ain't clean," he told them.
"Here, ghosty, ghosty," Dean called out. He hit the metal roof with the barrel of his gun.
Amy scoffed. "Yeah, I'm sure that'll work, Dean. Keep trying."
Sam glanced up. "I don't get it. I mean, no one ever died on a bus, and it's not like there's a body hidden here."
"Yeah," Dean agreed, "but a flap of skin, hair, hell, a hangnail. Something's gotta be tying the ghost to this place."
"I doubt we're gonna find something that small, though."
Dean moved to the front of the bus and began rifling through the compartments. "Hey," he called out.
"What?"
"Got a driver's permit, issued three weeks ago."
Sam walked up to the front of the bus. "Just before the first attack."
"Yeah." Dean showed them the permit. "Name of the driver is Dirk McGregor Sr., thirty-nine North Central Avenue."
"McGregor?" Sam repeated.
Dean looked up. "Yeah, why?"
"I knew his son," Sam admitted.
Dean looked at his brother in disbelief. "Did you know everyone at this school?"
Sam chuckled in half-amusement but didn't say anything.
Dean shook his head. "Let's go talk to this McGregor guy, then." He led the way out of the bus and back to the Impala.
It was a twenty-minute drive to McGregor's house. Sam introduced himself as someone who knew Dirk Jr. in high school, and they were led into the house. They took a seat on the couch across from the old man.
"So, you were friends with Dirk?" Mr. McGregor asked Sam curiously.
Sam nodded. "Yes, in high school."
"I don't recall Dirk having many friends at Truman," the old man replied in a puzzled tone.
Amy gave the old man a comforting smile. "He sounds like a great kid, though," she said, making up a lie on the spot, "these guys talk about him a lot."
"So, when did Dirk pass?" Dean asked, trying to sound compassionate about the subject.
"He was eighteen," Mr. McGregor replied.
"What happened?" Sam asked sadly.
Mr. McGregor got a sorrowful look on his face. "Well, first, drinking, then drugs, then, too many drugs, and he just slipped away through my fingers." He looked down at the floor. "It was my fault," he admitted, "I should have seen him coming, you know?" He glanced back up at the trio. "Dirk, he, uh - well, he had his fair share of troubles."
"What kind of troubles?" Dean asked.
Mr. McGregor sighed. "School was never easy for Dirk. We didn't have much money, and well, you know kids - they can be cruel. They picked on him."
Sam's eyes widened in confusion. "They picked on him?" he repeated.
Mr. McGregor nodded sadly. "They called him poor and dirty and stupid. They even had a nickname for him. Dirk the jerk." He sighed. "And after what happened to his mother..."
"His mother?" Sam asked, feeling guilty.
"Yeah, Jane, my wife," the old man admitted in a heartbroken voice. "She died when Dirk was thirteen. Cancer. I was working three jobs, so it fell to Dirk to take care of her. And he was a great kid. He made sure Jane got her medicine. He helped her, cleaned up after her. But, you know, you - you watch somebody die slowly, waste away to nothing... it does things to a person. Horrible things."
"Must have been awful," Amy said sadly.
"I didn't know about his mother," Sam said in a guilt-stricken voice.
The old man shook his head. "He wouldn't talk about her," he admitted. "Lots of anger in that boy."
"I'm sorry," Sam apologized.
The room became quiet. The sound of a ticking clock was the only noise that filled the air for a brief moment.
"Mr. McGregor," Amy said softly, "we would love to pay our respects to your son. Would you mind telling us where he was buried?"
The old man smiled kindly at her. "Oh, he wasn't. I had him cremated."
"All of him?" Dean wondered out loud.
Mr. McGregor cast a suspicious look at Dean. "Well, I kept a lock of his hair," he admitted.
"Oh, that - that's nice. Where do you keep that?" Dean asked carelessly.
Mr. McGregor gave him a hard expression. "On my bus, in my Bible."
Dean just nodded his head and smiled.
The trio excused themselves from the household and made their way to the Impala. Dean sped down the road to the school, so they finally put an end to Dirk's ghost.
Dean sped into the school parking lot, only to find that the bus had already left.
"Damn it," he swore. "Okay, you guys wait here, I'll go find out where that bus is going."
Not leaving any room for argument, Dean ran inside the school. Amy leaned against the window as she and Sam sat in silence, waiting for him to return.
Ten minutes later, Dean came back out. He got into the Impala and handed Sam a slip of paper.
"They're heading to a football game a few miles from here," Dean informed them.
"I know where that is," Sam said, pointing to the destination on the paper, "there's only one road that leads up that way."
Dean nodded. "Lead the way, Sammy." He started the engine and pulled back out of the parking lot.
Dean drove a few miles ahead of the bus, parking the Impala on the side of the road, far enough ahead so they could get ready.
Amy helped Sam drench a rope in saltwater while Dean laid out spike traps on the road.
"You get Dirk," Dean instructed his brother as they waited for the bus. "Amy and I will get the hair."
Amy nodded as she made sure her sawed-off was loaded. "Got it."
Five minutes later, two headlights appeared down the road. They were approaching quickly.
"Alright," Dean said, "get ready." They hid behind the Impala as the bus approached.
The bus sped over the spike trap, and the tires burst, causing the bus to swerve before coming to a stop.
Sam walked up to the bus as a middle-aged man stepped out. He cocked his shotgun. "Dirk!" he shouted.
Dirk turned around while Dean and Amy snuck around behind the ghost with the saltwater-soaked rope. "Winchester," Dirk sneered. "What are you gonna do, shoot me?"
Sam lowered his gun. "Don't need to."
Dean quickly wrapped the rope around the ghost, tying it tightly.
"That rope is soaked in saltwater, Dirk," Sam continued. "You're not going anywhere."
Amy quickly followed Dean onto the bus. She began searching for the lock of hair, while Dean addressed the team.
"All right, everybody stay where you are. You'll be okay," Dean informed them.
"Aren't you the P.E. Teacher?" the football coach asked Dean.
"And aren't you - wait...Amy?" a familiar voice called out.
Amy looked up to see Eric sitting towards the back of the bus.
"We're more like '21 Jump Street'," Dean explained. At the student's confused looks, he added, "the bus driver sells pot. Yeah."
Amy riffled through the pages of the bible, looking for the lock of hair. After not finding it, she slammed the book closed. "It's not here," she called out to Sam. She followed Dean back out of the bus.
Sam turned back to Dirk, aiming his gun. "Where is it?" he demanded.
"No way you'll ever find it," Dirk taunted.
Sam grabbed Dirk's shirt, shoving the ghost into the side of the bus. "Where is it?!" he shouted.
Dirk shook his head in disappointment. "Sam Winchester. Still a bully. You, you jocks... you popular kids... you always thought you were better than everybody else. And to you, I was just Dirk the jerk, right? Now you evil sons of bitches are gonna get what's coming to you."
"I'm not evil, Dirk," Sam replied, lowering his gun. "I'm not. And neither were you. Trust me. I've seen real evil. We were scared and miserable, and we took it out on each other - us and everybody else. That's high school. But you suffer through that, and it gets better. I'm just sorry you didn't get a chance to see that... you or Barry."
Sam's speech seemed to anger Dirk even more. "Nothing is gonna get better for me," he snapped. "Not ever." He broke out of the ropes like they were nothing and began approaching the hunters. Sam quickly fired two salt rounds into the man's chest, and the body collapsed to the ground. The hunters exchanged a glance before cautiously approaching the bus driver.
As they were approaching the driver, another student grabbed Sam from behind. Amy quickly grabbed the student, using all her strength to pull him off, Sam. Dean fired a salt round, which missed the student, hitting the side of the bus instead.
"Dean! Find the hair!" Sam yelled as he dodged a punch from Dirk.
Dean ran up to the bus driver, who was still lying on the ground and began looking through his pockets.
The student grabbed ahold of Amy, pinning her to the bus. She moved her head out of the way as he threw a punch at her, barely dodging it. Sam quickly pulled the student off her, punching him in the face.
"Hey, buddy, this isn't what it looks like," Dean said as he rummaged through the driver's pockets. He quickly found the lock of hair and took out his lighter, setting the hair on fire.
The student let out a scream and fell on top of Sam as Dirk was exorcised out of his body. Amy slid onto the ground, sitting against the side of the bus.
Sam struggled and strained under the weight of the student. "Little help?" he wheezed.
Dean glanced over at his brother and grimaced. "He's giving you the full cowgirl," he joked.
Amy rolled her eyes as she caught her breath, while Sam struggled to get out from under the student on top of him.
December 15th, 2008 - Truman High
Two days later, Amy sat with Dean in the Impala as they waited for Sam to exit the school. Sam had wanted to say goodbye to a former teacher of his, and Dean had decided not to argue about it.
As they waited for Sam to return, Amy spotted a familiar face exiting the building. She opened the backseat door and stepped out.
"Where are you going?" Dean asked.
"I've gotta do something, real quick," Amy stated simply, before closing her car door and walking up to the school.
Eric stood in front of the school, waiting for her. "Hey," he greeted.
"Hey," Amy echoed.
"So..." Eric began, "last night-"
"Yeah," Amy said, "sorry, I couldn't tell you."
Eric shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he said. He paused for a moment. "So, you're not really a student, then, are you?"
Amy shook her head. She smirked. "I actually graduated a little over a year ago."
"Wait, how old are you?" Eric asked.
"Nineteen."
Eric looked shocked. "Whoa."
Amy saw Sam leave the school. He gave her a quick glance before walking back to the Impala. A moment later, Dean honked the horn and began gesturing for her to hurry up.
"I better get going," Amy stated.
Eric nodded. "Yeah, me too," he said. "See ya around?"
Amy shrugged. "I honestly don't know. Maybe."
"Well, here's hoping," Eric said. "Bye, Amy."
"Later, Eric." Amy quickly ran off, hopping into the backseat of the Impala.
"So, who was that?" Dean asked.
"Eric," Amy replied. "He was in my English class and helped me find a couple of my classes the other day."
Dean looked at her through the rear-view mirror. "Hmm," he said, giving her a small smirk.
Amy rolled her eyes. "Can we just get going?"
Dean chuckled slightly as he pulled the Impala out of the Truman high parking lot. Amy folded up her jacket, using it as a pillow against the window while she closed her eyes to get some rest as Dean sped down the road.