Previously on Supernatural:
There, in the back seat, sits a thin, pale figure.
"Tess?!" Sam gasps.
"I don't have long boys, so listen up."
Dean pulls the Impala into an abandoned rest stop. Putting the car in park, he reaches for the keys in the ignition.
"Don't!" Tess exclaims, motioning to the radio. "I can't appear without it playing..."
Dean silently gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Sam follows, watching Tess's transparent figure pass seamlessly through the solid frame.
She didn't look like most of the ghosts the Winchesters had encountered, dressed in an emerald, velvet gown. There were no markers of her untimely death, and her long, wavy hair was still neatly pinned behind one ear. She could almost pass for human, if not for her unearthly, pale skin.
"I need your help," Tess starts.
"Is it really you?" Sam asks cautiously.
"It's me."
"How can we be sure?" Dean demands, speaking for the first time.
"We have to be certain," Sam reassures. "Make sure you're not a-"
"Revenant? Demon?" she finishes.
The brothers look at each other taken aback.
"I'm Tess Hollings, we went to high school together... you were my best friend."
Dean raises his eyebrows expectantly.
"Okay," Tess moves towards him. He immediately feels a chill settle over his skin. "The first time we met 'Wherever I May Roam' was playing on the radio."
Dean's shoulders relax. His eyes are fixed on the girl's face, somehow both familiar and foreign at the same time.
"It is you! Why are you here?" Sam murmurs.
Suddenly, Tess's ghostly visage starts to flicker in and out as the song finally fades. In seconds, she's vanished completely.
"Where'd she go?" Dean searches the night sky. "Hollings?"
Hey, hey
I'm your life,
I'm the one who takes you there
Music pierces the silence again as the second track starts to play.
"Hollings?!" Dean calls again. "Sam, get the- Jesus!" Tess appears inches away from his face, floating above the wet pavement.
Her apparition was hollower now, more like a shimmer of mist.
"It's not easy appearing this long, so listen up," Tess pleads. "Ghosts stick around because they have unfinished business, right?"
"Sometimes," Sam replies. "Or the ghost is stuck to an object, you know, something meaningful to them."
"Well I need your help with mine. And as far as an object, I think I have an idea on that, too."
The three turn to gaze at the radio.
Flashback
Dallas, TX
February 20, 1998
"I'm tired of being the new kid, Dean."
"If it makes you feel any better, Dad said we might be here a while. It'll take him and Uncle Bobby some time to track down that pack of vetalas."
"Not long enough," Sam grumbled.
Dean shifted in the driver's seat to look at his brother staring out the window. "At least we get to keep the Impala while Dad's away. We can hit the arcade tonight, first round of Street Fighter's on me!"
An awkward silence settled over the pair. In six months, the Winchesters had transferred to six different schools- Berkner High would be the seventh. The large brick building soon came into view; hundreds of teenagers spotted the grassy lawn. Pulling into the parking lot, Dean flipped on the radio, rolled down the windows, and cranked the volume.
But I'll take my time anywhere,
I'm free to speak my mind anywhere,
And I'll never mind anywhere
"Metallica! Good taste."
Dean looked up to see someone standing in front of the Impala. The girl moved to the driver's side, tucking her wavy hair behind one ear as she peered through the window. With mousy features and dark blue eyes, Dean thought she looked rather plain- and then she smiled. Incredibly wide and bright, it was a warm kind of smile that elicited one of his own.
"Come again, sweetheart?"
Sam leaned forward in his seat, stretching to see.
"'Wherever I May Roam' by Metallica," the girl said, gesturing to the radio.
"Oh, yeah they're alright. I prefer the classics: Zeppelin, the Stones, AC/DC..."
"Metallica is a modern classic," she said matter-of-factly. "Here," the girl slung her backpack around, unzipping the front pocket. Flipping through what must have been a dozen cassettes, she handed Dean an all-black case. "Just give it a chance, I swear you'll be converted."
"Thanks," Dean replied, flipping it over in his hands. "Is everyone in town this friendly to strangers?"
"Well yes," she smiled. "But you're not strangers. You're Sam and Dean Winchester, right? I'm Tess Hollings, senior class president," she said, extending her hand through the open window.
Dean chuckled softly and shook her hand.
"It's my job to show you around."
The brothers glanced at each other amusedly before grabbing their bags and exiting the car.
"It's nice to meet you too, Sam," Tess said, grabbing his hand. "The lowerclassmen wing is on the other side of campus. Becky Whittman, the freshman class president, is waiting for you in the administration office."
Dean ruffled his brother's hair, sending him on his way. "I'll pick you up later, Sammy."
"Oh!" Tess called out. "If anyone tells you there's a swimming pool in the basement, they're lying."
Sam laughed, "Got it." He waved back at the two before continuing down the sidewalk.
"So, are you ready for the tour?"
"Absolutely," Dean winked.
Admittedly, Dean didn't pay much attention to the tour. As far as he was concerned, Berkner High School was exactly like the other six high schools he had attended that year. Same hallways, same lockers, same principal's office that he would inevitably end up in. He did, however, pay attention to the tour guide. While Tess explained college credit courses, Dean focused on the denim skirt that showed off her long, slender legs. While she listed cafeteria options, he concentrated on the dimple that only formed on one side of her face.
"Did you play any sports in Durham?"
"What?" Dean blurted, wondering how long she had been talking before he answered.
"Sports. Did you play any sports in Durham?"
"No," Dean snorted. "Wait, how did you know I went to Durham?"
"Sorry," Tess blushed. "I couldn't help myself; I've never seen a permanent record that resembled an encyclopedia before."
A sly grin spread over his face. "So, you've taken an interest in me?"
Flushing harder still, Tess walked over to the staff room. "Anyway, I'd be happy to show you where your classes are," she said. "Ugh," she jiggled the handle, "it's locked. It's so annoying when people-"
Click!Tess turned around to see the Winchester snapping a large pocketknife open.
"Um, Dean," she waved keys in front of his face. "Well, that permanent record is starting to make sense." Tess unlocked the door, grabbed a file off the desktop, and scanned over the pages. "English, health, shop," she glanced at him, "AP Latin?"
"I've got an ear for languages," Dean shrugged.
"We'll have a class together then," she replied. "Don't worry, Mr. Dominski's alright. I did notice that you have seventh period open. Do you have any clubs in mind?"
"I'm not really an extracurricular kind of guy. I'd rather study you. How about it? You, me, the supply closet..."
Tess rolled her eyes. "You don't waste time, do you?"
"Not really."
"Well as lovely as that sounds, that's not what I had in mind."
Dean rested his hand on the lockers and leaned in until Tess could feel his warm breath on her neck. "Give it a chance, I swear you'll be converted."
"Clever," she laughed nervously. "Actually, I was thinking about our classical music group."
"Oh," he sighed defeatedly, stepping back. "I'm not a Beethoven kind of guy either."
"How about Black Sabbath?" she retorted.
Dean pursed his lips skeptically.
"It's a little loophole I found in the system. School-funded concerts downtown seeing classical rock legends. Not to brag, but last year one of our members came this close to being spit on by Ozzy Osbourne!"
Dean was still unsure.
"Look," Tess began, "I know you move around a lot, and this school won't be an exception. But it's not all bad here! Why not make the most of the time you have?"