(2/25/2017) You ever give a dog a haircut so drastic that they don't recognize themselves? It's either that or our little mutt is low on some brain cells.

Thank you RHatch89, thedarkpokemaster, jkmp28, Maverick500, and Sage of Wind Dragons for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get doggie kisses!


March 2007


To Buffy's astonishment her brothers came prepared with a legitimate reason to stay in town; Sam was interviewing to take over Jenny Calendar's position until the end of the school year. His (forged) degree from Stanford and (forged) teaching credentials swept him through the screening process and he was hired to start Monday after the funeral.

They decided not to forgo telling Snyder the familial relationship between "Mr. Winchester" and Buffy, which actually ended up helping Sam land the job. The Principal took stock of Buffy's half-brother's apparent scholastic success, his professional demeanor, and his fabricated conviction that his sister needed discipline to mean that the school had gained another set of eyes to watch over the blonde delinquent. Sam wore a properly stern expression while Snyder gleefully informed Buffy of this revelation, then joined her in a bout of hysterics once the man was out of earshot.

Dean was rightfully wary about Sam's decision to utilize their real name. He capitulated after it was pointed out that their nomenclatures weren't exactly uncommon, and that Joyce would have too many questions if she'd found out Sam was using a pseudonym while working.

Dean himself became their second coverup issue. He tried to say he'd pose as the family lazy ass and got two scornful looks in return. Sam managed to wheedle a deal with Snyder after explaining that there was a second sibling who needed a disciplinarian. An irritated Dean was then subject to the Principal's scathing glare and derisive lecture (with plenty of references to their sister's perceived delinquency) before being installed as a volunteer librarian's assistant.

"Why do I gotta work for free?" the eldest of them grumbled as they were walking back to Revello Drive. They'd spent the remainder of the day acclimating to being employees of Sunnydale High before spending several hours at The Bronze commiserating over their weeks spent apart. It was nearly midnight, normally about when Buffy hit the cemeteries for vampires, but her brothers' arrival superceded normally scheduled slayage.

"Because you're a poor mannered, uneducated, scruffy-faced hoodlum," Buffy parroted off of Snyder's speech.

Dean glowered down at his sister as he pulled his phone from his back pocket. "Yeah, it's about time to make a call," he said as he scrolled down his contacts list. "Hold up."

"What?" queried a bemused Buffy. She turned towards Sam and was surprised to see a grim, yet satisfied, look on his face.

"Hiya, Bela," Dean was saying, his voice jaunty. "Here's a fun fact you may not know. I felt your hand in my pocket when you swiped that motel receipt."

As the eldest sibling taunted the thief with the knowledge of her demon deal coming due, Sam explained what had transpired. "We got word from one of Bobby's friends where Bela was at. Tried to see if she still had the Colt. Apparently she sold it to someone in the Middle East so it's long gone."

"Crap," said Buffy.

"Yeah, but here's the thing: Dean saw some herbs in Bela's room that ward against Hellhounds."

"Is that why you stole the Colt, huh?" the eldest brother was asking. "Try to wiggle out of your deal? Our gun for your soul?"

Buffy and Sam looked at each other, startled. "Really?" the teenager wondered.

"Makes sense," Sam answered. "We found out her parents died in a sketchy car crash exactly ten years ago."

The two younger siblings continued listening to Dean rant at the doomed thief. "You know what the bitch of the bunch is? If you would have just come to us sooner and asked for help we probably could have taken the Colt and saved you."

"What would you even do with it?" Buffy asked Sam.

"Go after whoever holds Bela and Dean's contract," he replied. "We don't even know who it is."

"Lilith?" Dean said incredulously. "Why should I believe you?"

"Wasn't that who Ruby was so scared of?" Buffy wondered. "You know, when we first saw her outside St. Avellino's?"

"This is bad," Sam said breathlessly. He ran his fingers through his hair and paced a few steps away.

"I'll see you in Hell," Dean snarled before ending the call. He pocketed his phone, walked towards the street, then sat heavily down on the curb. "I am so fucked," he said quietly as Buffy sat beside him.

"What's the big deal with this Lilith?" Buffy asked.

"She's some big demonic player," said Sam as he sat on Dean's other side. "All we know is that she's supposed to be a rival to whatever the yellow-eyed demon wanted me to be. That and she's more powerful than the regular black eyed dicks we deal with."

The brothers went quiet and stared off into the distance. Indisposed to take their maudlin attitudes in silence, Buffy nudged Dean with her shoulder with just enough Slayer strength that he rocked domino-like into Sam. "Stop with the poopy faces!" she demanded as the younger brother toppled onto his side. "We got three months. Plenty of time."

"Yeah, okay," Dean muttered lugubriously. He stood up. "I need a drink."

"You want company?" Sam asked as he dusted off his arm.

"Nah. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

As the eldest of the three walked off, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, Buffy stood up and folded her arms with a huff. Then, with a hopeful gleam in her eye, she looked down at Sam. "Hey, if I take your class will you give me good grades?"

"Sure," he replied as he got to his feet. "Long as you do the work."

"You are a terrible, terrible brother."

Sam slung his arm onto Buffy's head as they resumed heading home. "Yup."


Miss Calendar's funeral was a small, solemn affair. Buffy's friends attended, as well as a few students and faculty from Sunnydale High, and a couple of people who looked as if they might be fellow pagans. There was no family, however, and when Sam ventured to ask about their absence he received only shrugs. Giles postulated that, in accordance with the lower socioeconomic status of most European Romani, Jenny's relatives were unable to afford to either ship her body home or to fund the requisite travel arrangements to California.

Dean curiously pointed out the bruise spectacularly blossoming on Giles' face. After glancing at his Slayer, the Watcher cleared his throat and explained that it was a reminder not to be selfish.

Their lives fell into a routine, one that was marked with the morbid ubiquitousness of Dean's deal's rapidly approaching due date. Buffy went to school, hung out with her friends, and did her usual tap dancing around her oblivious mother while fulfilling her duties as the Slayer. With Sam around the subterfuge became even easier. His aid meant that her grades improved considerably which meant Joyce tended to be more lenient towards midnight prowls and "all night study sessions" with "Willow."

Sam settled into his position with surprising ease, a fact that his less academic brother and sister found highly amusing. Giles unwittingly threw fuel on the fire when he suggested Sam consider applying to study with the Watcher's Council. A full week's worth of fake British accents and attempts to get Sam to dress in a cardigan and bow tie subsequently followed.

Sam, however, was rather surprised at how much he enjoyed teaching. Not only was he sharing knowledge, but the disciplinary problems that Snyder had so vehemently insisted were epidemic in his school were absent. Buffy forwent telling her enchanted brother that the calm in his classes was due to other factors than the absence of ingrained delinquency. The girls were too entranced by the young, handsome substitute teacher to throw around attitude; and the boys were too intimidated by Mr. Winchester's height and the fact that he was apparently related to the convict that had been hired as a librarian's assistant.

The first time a stream of teenaged girls, Cordelia at the head, giggled their way into the library Giles thought that a teacher had assigned a research project that had to do with some frivolity. That had to be the only explanation for the presence of some of the more vacuous members of the school's female population. When they headed straight for Dean the answer to their sudden desire to become intellectuals became abundantly clear.

The Watcher thought it was to Dean's credit that he maintained his patience and did his duties without being anything but professional. He even wore a collared shirt and and a tie. For all appearances, Dean Winchester, librarian's assistant, was a fine, respectable gentleman. A hard worker. A straight arrow.

After hours, however, it was apparent that each day that passed saw him falling ever deeper into despair.

Much of Dean's spare time was spent either at The Bronze or swimming to the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniel's. He was careful enough to sleep off his binges in his car or at whatever woman's bed he'd ended up in rather than risk Joyce's wrath. Giles, being unable to escape Dean's company, often made biting commentary about the caustic fumes wafting from his coworker. Other than that, no one was the wiser to his proclivities.

Sam, but more forcefully Buffy, insisted Dean refrain from hunting lest some creature (or his drunken antics) end up causing his early demise. For the most part he was cooperative; after all, it was difficult for the man to find time to kill monsters while sleeping through the entire population of local coeds and barflies. When the Ghostfacers arrived, however, there was no choice in the matter, especially since Angelus chose that point to reemerge.


April 2007


"Who the hell is Sadie Hawkins?" asked Dean as he peered at the flyer pasted on the library door.

"Dance where the girls ask the boys," Sam replied absently from the central desk. It was twenty minutes prior to the first class of the day and he was busy typing up last minute changes to his PowerPoint presentation.

"Oh yeah." Dean's face looked wistfully off into the distance. "I remember this now. Hey, anyone ever bother asking your dorky ass to one of these?"

When Sam didn't respond, Dean walked over and poked him in the back of the head. The younger brother swiped a hand at him and snapped, "Couple of times, okay? Half the time they just wanted to know if anyone had asked you yet." Sam clapped the laptop closed and stood up. "I'm going to be late."

"Dude, the bell hasn't even rung."

"I'm the teacher, Dean. I actually have to be there before the kids."

"Yeah, whatever, Professor Cranky-ass. Have fun."

Giles emerged from his office as Sam was leaving. "Have you ever heard of a 'Ghostfacers'?" he wondered as he furrowed his brow at a printout.

"A what?" Dean peered at the decimals on the sides of the books in front of him before starting to sort.

"'Ghostfacers.' Apparently they want to come interview me about a local spirit."

"Sounds stupid."

"Eh, quite. I suppose I could indulge them for a few minutes."

Dean chucked a stack of books over the central railing with a practiced heave and was satisfied to see the volumes stack themselves haphazardly on the floor. As he walked up the stairs, he asked, "Why not tell them to shove it?"

"Mr. Winchester, please have more care for school property," Giles chided.

"Wait," the hunter said pensively as he knelt down. "How'd they know to contact you? What, they find out you're a Watcher or something?"

"No, I'm being questioned as a member of the faculty." Giles sighed and removed his glasses for cleaning. "For some reason they're quite certain that there will be an incident of some sort tomorrow evening."

"What? Why?"

"Because tomorrow marks fifty years since a student murdered a teacher within these halls."


During lunchtime, Dean was treated to the spectacle that was Snyder and the janitor confronting a skinny boy that had locked himself to the vending machine. The teen shrieked about animal rights and extolled the virtues of veganism while bolt cutters were snipping away at his chains. Dean made a point to take a big bite of his pastrami sandwich as they passed.

There was an overwhelming amount of buzz from the students about a history teacher that was apparently suffering from some issues and had written an angry, obscene message on his chalkboard while lecturing. Dean spotted his sister and Xander walking down the hallway and followed them. "It bugs me," Buffy was saying as her friend stopped at his locker and twisted the dial.

"I'm not trying to poo poo your wiggins," Xander said as his lock clicked open, "but a domestic dispute and a little case of chalkboard Tourette's? Sounds like 'Hellmouth Lite' to me—"

The boy cut off with a choked shout as a bluish decayed arm shot out from the depths of his locker and wrapped its fingers around his neck. Several other students let out cries of astonishment and horror as the limb tried to pull Xander into the container's depths. As Buffy pried the rotten digits from her friend, Dean sprinted forward and slammed the door shut. He then shoved away the two teenagers and yanked it back open.

Nothing. Nothing other than Xander's haphazardly stored school supplies.

With a great deal of trepidation, Xander threw his unwanted textbook into the locker and slammed the offending container shut. Momentary silence reigned throughout the corridor before normal noise reasserted itself. Dean, Buffy, and Xander then marched straightaway for the library.

When they arrived, they found Willow taking advantage of the remainder of the lunch hour to study. She blinked confusedly at her disheveled friends. "Xander, what did you do? Criticize Cordelia's outfit?"

"You're just a big bucket o' funny, Will," Xander answered. "I'll have you know I just got accosted by some kind of locker monster."

"Loch Ness monster?" asked a highly interested Giles. "Really?"

"Not unless Nessie's hiding in the kid's stuff," Dean clarified. "Those Ghostfacers might actually have been on to something. I think you got a poltergeist."

Xander and Buffy filled Giles and Willow in on their ghostly locker experience, as well as a first hand account about the teacher who had subconsciously written the profanity on his chalkboard, while Dean sent Sam a text. Ghost in the school. Going to need to find some bones to salt and burn.

Who? came the reply.

Dunno. Can you look up murder suicide from fifty years ago?

Okay, let you know if I find something.

The others were wrapping up their speculations (with Xander crowing about having correctly identified the poltergeist's characteristics). "So what now?" Dean asked.

"The only tried and true way is to figure out what unresolved issues keep the spirit here and… well, resolve them," said Giles.

"If it's that kid and his teacher then, what, we solve his flunked exam or something?"

"Or we Dr. Phil him," Buffy offered.

Giles adjusted his glasses and frowned pensively. "It would be better if we kept a more open mind about who the spirit might be. It could be anyone at all who's died in these halls. Anyone," he added to himself.


The Ghostfacers showed up at the end of the school day. Their ostentatious van, emblazoned with their name and logo on both sides, had a good number of students staring. Two of the men that the vehicle disgorged had the Winchester brothers exchanging consternated glances.

"Isn't that…?" Sam started to ask.

"Those dumbasses from Texas," finished Dean. "Buffy's gonna flip."

The five members of the Ghostfacers team were busy preparing camera and audio equipment and didn't notice the irritated glares the hunters were casting them from the steps leading to the school entry. An ecstatically freed-from-school Buffy came bouncing down the walkway and called out, "Hey, what're you—oh hell no."

Sam grabbed the back of Buffy's shirt before she could go charging towards the vehicle. "You're still at school, dummy."

"Hey, I owe them!" Buffy whirled around and stabbed a finger into her brother's chest. "Remember that tulpa thing? Mortadella?"

"Mordechai," Dean muttered.

"Right, Mocha-chai. Those idiots nearly got us all killed!"

The Ghostfacers group approached, Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler in the lead. Ed, in particular, looked irked to find the trio staring at them. "We were here first," the man snarled.

"They were here first," Dean said sardonically to his siblings.

"I was here first," Buffy clarified. She grabbed Ed by the front of his shirt and yanked him down to her level. "This is my school."

"No, Ms. Summers," interrupted Principal Snyder, "this is my school."

Buffy quickly released the self-proclaimed ghost expert. She stood back and attempted to look contrite. Unfortunately, her natural tendency to defy the principal's presuppositions warred with the effort and made her look merely pouty.

Snyder focused on the group of possible ne'er-do-wells that had invaded his campus. "I'm assuming there's a reason behind your presence here, Mr…?"

Harry cleared his throat and stuck out a hand. "Ah, yes, sir. Spangler, Harry Spangler. We are experts on the paranormal and are here to film the pilot for our television show."

The Principal ignored the proffered limb. "What sort of nonsense is this?"

Ed, Harry, and two other members of their crew (a skinny, jittery youth and an Asian woman) began an eager, overlapping explanation of their work. The last (a portly, bespectacled young man) hoisted his camera and began filming. Sam tried his best from behind the increasingly vitriolic Principal to gesture them to stop but to no avail. Buffy and Dean merely enjoyed the show.

One by one the Ghostfacers caught exactly what both Sam and Snyder were conveying and drifted off into nervous silence. In a tone that Buffy was familiar to cringing to, the Principal ordered, "All of you idiots will leave my campus right now or I will call the police and have you arrested for trespassing."

The quintet of paranormal investigators made their apologies and, after Ed and Harry gave the siblings meaningful glowers, retreated back to their van. Sam, Dean, and Buffy's relief over their departure was short-lived as Snyder turned and directed his ire at the three of them. "Would any of you like to explain what was going on here?"

As the only one of them who might possibly get away with a plausible lie, Sam said, "We've met them before. They're stupid, but harmless. We were just trying to make sure they didn't cause any trouble."

"Very well," Snyder replied. "Don't let me catch her assaulting anyone on school grounds again."

Sam mumbled out an affirmative response and the Principal marched back inside. Sourly, Dean muttered, "And a good day to you. Dick."

"Dean," Sam sighed.

"'Assault'!" Buffy cried indignantly. "I didn't assault him! If anything, I was preparing to assault him."

Sam rolled his eyes. "We better go tell Giles who these dumbasses are."


After Giles was informed about the Ghostfacers' origins he emailed the group to respectfully decline to be interviewed. That left the evening free to be spent trying to discover who the spirit might be and why they might be appearing exactly at this moment. Buffy was expected at home, but her brothers stayed at the school with her Watcher.

Sam had finally uncovered the details regarding the teacher's death from fifty years prior. He had opened his mouth to tell Dean and Giles when a gunshot echoed through the halls. The three shot out of the library.

Dean and Giles took off after what looked like a janitor holding a handgun while Sam went towards where the sound had originated. The second floor walkway and bannister outside the nearest door were spattered with blood. When he looked down below, a middle aged female teacher was lying broken on the pavement.

"Holy shit."

Sam whirled around. Ed and his cameraman were there, goggling at the blood. The hunter took the lead Ghostfacer by the shoulders and demanded, "Did you see what happened?" When the man merely stared, pale, Sam shook him. "Well?"

"Uh, yeah," the cameraman said irritably, more vexed that the hunter didn't acknowledge his equipment than having had to witness a woman's death. "Got the whole thing on video."

"Good. Let's go."


Acknowledgement : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes "Time Is on My Side" (SPN 2.14), Ghostfacers (SPN 3.13), and "I Only Have Eyes For You" (BtVS 2.19).

Author's Note : I don't know about you, but a mocha chai sounds disgusting.