Warnings: Implied smut.

Bamby

SPOV

Dressed as an orderly, sitting in a room in a mental hospital, a clipboard in hand, I faced the teen girl across from me. Apparently, she killed another girl from her high school, the thing is, she swears it wasn't her, that she was possessed, which is why I was here.

Refusing to look at me, April shook her head. "I'm not talking about it anymore. I already told the cops and the doctors. No one believes me. They think I'm crazy."

"Well, I'm a little bit more open-minded than most." I offered a comforting smile. "April, why did you tell the police you were possessed?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

Hesitating a moment, she let out a sigh as she told me the story. "When I- when I hurt Taylor, I was there, in my head, but I couldn't control my body. I could see what I was doing, but I couldn't stop. I just wanted to stop. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologise," I assured her. "April, some of the kids at school told the police that you and Taylor didn't get along."

"Well, yeah, but I never wanted to kill her. Never. Do you believe me?"

"Yeah, I do." It was the truth. "Just a couple more questions. On the day this happened, did you… happen to smell anything?"

"Anything… like what?"

"Like rotten eggs? Or… sulfur?"

"Um, no."

"Okay. Um, did you notice any black smoke?"

She frowned. "What are you, crazy?"

…

Opening the passenger door of the Impala, I slid into my seat as Dean turned to me from behind the wheel. Lizzie wasn't in the car though. She was doing something for me, for the case, helping us get away into the high school April went to.

"So?" Dean asked expectantly as I closed the door.

"I think she's telling the truth. I mean, the way she talked about being there mentally but not physically." I shrugged. "Kind of sounds like demonic possession to me."

"Kind of?"

"She didn't see any black smoke or smell sulfur."

"Maybe it's not a demon. I mean, kids can be vicious."

"Well, I mean, we're already here. Might as well check out the school."

It took a moment before Dean responded, looking out the front window, an unamused smile on his face. "Right. The school."

"What?"

"Truman High, home of the Bombers," he said, a little too enthusiastically, giving me the impression he wasn't interested.

"What's your point?"

"I mean, we went there, like… for a month a million years ago. Why are you so jazzed to go back? "

"I'm not. I just think it's worth looking into." I lied, but there was no need to tell him that.

Sighing, Dean shook his head, not bothering to question me anymore. "All right, well, what's our cover? FBI? Homeland Security? Swedish exchange students?"

"Don't worry. Lizzie's on it."

EPOV

Sam had left me with the task of getting us in the school, and I just couldn't help myself. I'd made it so that during the case, Dean would be the substitute gym teacher, and Sam would be a janitor, while I was stepping in as the history teacher.

Walking into my first classroom, I was well aware of the eyes on me. As a substitute teacher, I knew I would get some attention… my age and outfit was just the cherry on top.

I was wearing a pair of black leather high heeled ankle boots, thigh-high black socks that then left about an inch of bare skin, a red and black plaid skirt, and a tight black long-sleeved shirt, with my hair braided over my shoulder. It was safe to say I wasn't like other substitute teachers.

Moving to the blackboard, I grabbed a piece of chalk and proceeded to write my name. "I'm Miss Hart, I'll be your substitute for a day or so." Placing the chalk down, I turned to the class. "Unfortunately, your teacher wants you reading from your textbooks… but who finds that absolutely boring?"

The students all looked at each other, confused and suspicious. But slowly, one by one, hands began to rise.

"That's what I thought." I nodded, scanning the room. "Who here likes history?" Most of the teens put their hands down. "Not surprised really." I took a step closer to the front row, a small smile growing on my lips. "Who wants to learn about the Salem Witch trials?"

All hands shot up.

SPOV

Walking down the hall, dressed in my janitor uniform, I found myself thinking about the past, and how my time had at this school had been. It was one of the only places where I hadn't hated every second of my life. I'd even made a friend here.

The sound of the bell ringing caught my attention right as I walked past my old English room. Looking in the room as I passed, I spotted my old teacher, Mr Wyatt. Still moving, I couldn't help but feel a little surprised that he was still here after all these years, but at the same time, I began to wonder if maybe I'd have some time to go talk to him before, Dean, Lizzie and I left.

DPOV

I paced in front of the lined-up students, dressed in my-unfortunate- uniform. A white shirt and tight red shorts, with a red headband on my head, and a whistle around my neck.

Bring the whistle to my lips, I blew into it. "Today, you will have the honour of playing one of the greatest games ever invented. A game of skill, agility, cunning. A game with one simple rule," bending down, I grabbed one of the balls on the ground, "dodge."

As I threw the ball at one of the students, he failed to dodge, letting out a pained groan.

"Sorry," I apologised as I walked the line again.

"Uh, Substitute Coach Roth…" One of the students lifted their hand, getting my attention.

I walked over to him. "Yes?"

"Ms Boudreaux never let us play dodge ball," he informed me, but I didn't care.

"Well, Ms B's in Massachusetts getting married, so we're playing."

"She says it's dangerous."

I blew the whistle, loud, and close to his face. "Take a lap!"

"But-"

Before he could finish, I blew the whistle again, cutting him off. Without another word, he hurried off.

The gym door opened before Sam walked in and gave me a nod.

I grabbed the bag of balls, throwing them in the air to release the balls. "Go nuts," I told the students as I headed over to Sam.

"Having fun?" he asked as I reached him.

I couldn't help but grin. "The whistle makes me their god."

"Right. Nice shorts."

Shifting uncomfortable, I got to the point. "Find anything?"

"I've been over the entire school twice. No sulfur. "

"No sulfur, no demon. No demon, no case." I shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe I was wrong."

"Well, it happens to the best of us. I say we hit the road, huh? But after lunch. It's sloppy-joe day. You should let Liz know."

"Speaking of Lizzie… have you seen her?"

I frowned. "No, why? Have you?"

Sam simply shrugged. "Nope."

It had been just under a week since Vegas. Just under a week since Liz had confessed to the fact that she hadn't heard from her boyfriend in over a month. Just under a week since she'd lost her pills.

Most days were okay, but it was becoming clear that something wasn't right. Maybe it was the fact she had no more pills, or maybe it was the fact she missed her boyfriend, either way, I could tell she was trying harder and harder to keep the smile on her face. It wasn't coming as natural as it used to.

She never stopped moving, hardly slept. Some days I worried she'd work herself into the ground. But no matter what Sam or I said, she just wouldn't stop. It was like she was determined to keep herself distracted.

"Oh!"

Sam and I looked over at the students, seeing the one I told to do laps, running past us, hand to his nose.

"Good hustle, Colby!" I called after him as he rushed for the door. "Walk it off!"

EPOV

I'd spent the morning talking about the supernatural to the two classes I'd had so far. About the history of folklore and myths in America, and how we're influenced by these stories in day to day life. It was easy for me to talk about this stuff, because it was my life.

Halfway through my third class of the day, just about to get into the history of the Salem witch trials, when the sound of someone screaming down the hall, got everyone's attention.

"Stay in your seats," I told my students- knowing they wouldn't- as I hurried out of the classroom, running in my heels, heading to the culinary room.

The culinary teacher was rushing students out, his hand a bloody mess as the rest of her class ran screaming into the halls as well. Pushing through the crowd, I made my way into the room where a student- with blood on his face- was lying on the ground, Sam crouched over him.

The kid looked up at Sam confused. "What happened?"

But before either Sam or I could answer- not that I had an answer- we both noticed a black liquid ooze from the kid's ear. I knew what it was in an instant. Ectoplasm.

DPOV

I walked into a hall where I found Sam scanning some halls with an EMF reader. As I stepped up to him, he turned away from the lockers to walk down the hall with me.

"How's the nonviolence assembly going?" he asked as I came over to him.

"Apparently, shoving a kid's arm into a Cuisinart is not a 'healthy display of anger'."

I hadn't been there when the incident happened, but right before the assembly had started, Sam had found me and told me what he saw. He told me Liz had been there too, but she had a class to take care of, so I hadn't had the chance to talk to her about it yet. In fact, I hadn't seen her all day, until the assembly.

While sitting with the rest of the teachers, I'd been minding my business when I'd spotted a foot tapping on the ground while the principal had been talking. At first, I hadn't cared, but the longer the tapping went, the more distracting it became. That's when I looked at who the foot belonged to.

Liz.

She was sitting at the other end of the row of teachers, one leg crossed over the other. My eyes hadn't been able to look away. Seeing the space between her thigh-high stockings and skirt, the peep of creamy skin… God, it was agonising.

As much as I knew she would want to be here to talk with Sam and me while the rest of the school was busy, she'd be busy until the end of the day, if her timetable- which I'd stolen when I'd broken into the principal's office- was correct. So, until then, she'd have to stay in the dark about the case.

"So, the kid had ectoplasm leaking out his ear?" I asked, getting back to business.

Sam nodded. "Which only comes from a seriously pissed-off spirit. It's got to be ghost possession."

"Yeah, but that's pretty rare."

"Yeah, but it happens," he noted. "I mean, they get angry enough, they can take control of a person's body."

"All right, so, what, we got a ghost in the building?"

"Yeah, but where? I mean, there's no EMF. Maybe we could find out who it is, at least. You know, check and see if somebody died bloody around here or something."

"Way ahead of you." Coming to a stop, I pulled a piece of paper out of my pocket. "I had to break into the principal's office to get this." Unfolding the paper, I read what I'd found. "So, there was only one death on campus. It was a suicide back in '98. Some kid named Barry Cook." Sam snatched the paper from me. "What?"

He sighed, looking down at the paper. "I knew him. How did he die?"

"He slit his wrists in the first-floor girls' bathroom."

"That's where-"

I nodded, cutting him off. "Right where the chick got swirleyed to death, exactly. So, what? This ghost is possessing nerds?"

"And using them to go after bullies, yeah."

"Well, does that sound like Barry's M.O.?"

"Barry had a hard time."

EPOV

The siren went off and as if they were all programmed to do so, the students in my class started to pack their things so they could leave. I didn't even try to stop them as I moved to lean on my desk. Crossing one leg over the other, I grabbed the textbook the teacher had assigned and started flicking through it.

A knock on the door caught my attention. Looking up from the book, I turned to the door. It took a moment as the students continued to leave before I spotted my visitor.

Dean.

I held back a laugh at the sight of him in the tight red gym shorts he was wearing. "Nice look, Winchester."

"Could say the same thing to you." He grinned, walking into his room, hand behind his back.

I nodded to his hidden hand. "What you got?"

Shrugging, he brought his hand around to show me. Sitting there, in his grasp, was a bright, juicy, red apple.

This time I couldn't hold back my laugh as I reached for the fruit. "You got me an apple? I never pegged Dean Winchester as a teacher's pet."

"Well if all my teachers looked like you, I would have been the best teacher's pet ever." He kept grinning at me, taking another step closer.

"I bet you were a bad boy. All mischief and mayhem." I smirked up at him. "The kind of guy I would have crushed on from afar."

"Is that so?" He stepped even closer then, leaving barely a foot between us.

I looked up, into his eyes, seeing the familiar stirring of a dark and lustful storm forming. It made my knees go weak and my heart skip a beat. The memories of us, of what we'd shared before…

Clearing my throat, I jumped off the desk and turned to gather my things. "Yep," I answered simply as I moved around him and towards the door. "Now, don't we have somewhere to be?"

SPOV

After the school day had ended, Lizzie, Dean and I had gone back to our hotel and changed into our normal clothes. Dean and I had explained the situation to Lizzie and told her everything we'd found. Then we headed off to the graveyard to dig up Barry's bones and burn them.

Now back in the Impala, headed back to the hotel, I couldn't stop feeling so guilty about what we'd just done.

"You all right?" Dean asked.

Without looking at him, I answered, "Barry was my friend. I just burned his bones."

"Well, he's at peace now, Sam."

"I mean, if dad had let us stay just a little while longer, maybe I could have helped the kid, you know?"

But Dean just shook his head. "You read the coroner's report same as me. 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," I argued.

"How can you say that after what happened to you?"

"What happened?" Lizzie asked from the back seat.

"He got bullied. Beat up." Dean's jaw tensed at the memory as he looked out the front window. "The place sucked for both of us."

I always knew Dean had hated the place, which is why I'd never told him the truth when it came to my experience there. Sure, I got into two fights, and sure, I lost one. But that was on purpose. After that, I took care of the bully. Things just fell into place then, and I can honestly say, it was probably the best school I'd been to.

EPOV

Dean parked Baby outside the school, sighing as he looked up at the building. "We came back here so you could talk to a teacher?"

Sam sighed. "He's a good guy."

"Well, whatever." Dean shrugged. "Go have your Robin Williams 'O captain! My captain!' moment. Just make it quick."

Leaving the car, Sam closed the door behind him as he shoved his hands into his pockets and started for the school entrance. Once he was gone, I climbed over into the front seat.

"So, tell me, how come this place was so shitty for you?"

Dean avoided looking at me, shrugging. "It just was."

"No, come on. Tell me," I pressed, a smile tugging on my lips. "I won't judge. I swear. And I won't laugh. Cross my heart."

Arm resting on his door as he looked out his window, it took a second before he sighed and gave in. "There was a girl here."

My smile fell. "Oh…"

Turning to look at me, he shook his head. "It's not what you think. Well… it is what you think, but it didn't end well. She just-" He sighed. "She tried getting too close, and I pushed her away, and then she embarrassed me in front of the school."

When he fell silent, I frowned. "That's all you're giving me? Aren't you gonna tell me how she embarrassed you? Details, Dean." Still, no answer, so I decided to guess. "Did she tell the school you have a small penis?"

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't sleep with her, Liz."

"Still, she could have pretended she did and lied."

This got his attention, getting him to turn to me. "Lie? So, are you saying it's big?"

Shrugging, I leaned back against Sam's door. "It's not small."

Now that the conversation had taken a sharp turn down a road we both tried to avoid when together, I couldn't help but watch him a little closer. He grinned, jaw clenching ever so slightly. Shifting in his spot a little, he rested a hand on his thigh. I could tell he wanted to reach out, he was itching to touch me. Surprisingly, I wanted him to.

Tristan was gone. Until I heard from him and got a reason for his absence, I was done with waiting. For all I knew, this could be his way of dumping me, and the best way to get over being dumped is to move on.

Dean and I, we had a past. That was clear. What was also clear was the fact that we still liked each other. When with Tristan, I tried to ignore it, out of respect for my partner. But now? If I was a free woman, then my feelings and thoughts would be free as well, and right now, I was feeling a lot when it came to Dean.

But before either of us could say or do anything that might lead to more, the doors of the high school opening caught our attention as Sam rushed down the stairs and towards us.

SPOV

I walked down the deserted hallway of the high school. It was the middle of class time, so everyone was tucked away in the classrooms. But I'd checked yesterday, to find out when the room I wanted to go to would be free, which was now.

As I reached the door though, I was stopped by a voice.

"Excuse me, sir, can you tell me find room three-oh-five?"

I turned to the girl standing a couple steps away from me. "Sure. Um," I gestured down the hallway, "head down the hall, take your first right, and it's the third door on the left."

She smiled up at me. "Thanks, Sam."

I knew, in an instant, that something was wrong. But before I could do anything, the girl pulled out a knife and lunged at me, stabbing me in the stomach.

"You got tall, Winchester," she sneered at me.

As I was hunched over, grasping at my stomach, she kicked me in the face.

I fell to the ground, turning away from her and pulling out a small metal bottle I had in my jacket. Pouring some salt out of the bottle, I waited, listening as she stepped up to me. Once she was close enough, I moved.

Turning, I grabbed her arm that had been reaching out for me and then forced the hand full of salt into her mouth.

The ghost was ripped from her body and pushed through the roof, going back from where ever it came from as the girl collapsed in my arms.

EPOV

I knelt down next to Sam as he sat on a bench. We were parked off the road and by a river, out of sight so no one could see as I patched Sam's stab wound up. Yes, stab wound. While Dean and I had been flirting, Sam had been attacked by a girl being possessed by the ghost.

Dean came over, offering Sam a bottle of some kind of alcohol. "Trust me. This will help."

Reaching for the bottle, I took it from Sam and poured some of the liquid onto a rag before pressing it to the wound. Sam flinched and pulled away, hissing out in pain.

Dean shook his head, watching me as I got back to work. "That ghost is dead. I'm gonna rip its lungs out!" When Sam and I looked up at him wondering if he knew what he'd just said, he rolled his eyes. "Well, you know what I mean."

Sighing, Sam shook his head. "It knew my name, Dean. My real name. We burned Barry's bones. What the hell?"

"Maybe it wasn't him." I shrugged, finishing up with Sam's wound. "Or maybe we missed something? Maybe-"

"No way." Dean pulled Sam's and my attention to him. We both looked over to see him leaning against Baby, reading a file. "How did we not see this before?"

"What?" Sam and I asked at the same time.

"Check it out." Pushing off Baby, Dean came over to stand by us, turning the file to show us what he found. "Look, Martha Dumptruck, Revenge of the Nerds, and Hello Kitty, they rode the same bus."

"Okay, so maybe the bus is haunted," Sam suggested.

Dean moved back to lean against Baby again. "Well, that would explain why there's no EMF at the school, but not the attacks. I mean, ghosts are tied to the places that they haunt. They can't just bail."

"Unless this one can." Dean and I turned to Sam expectantly, hoping he'd elaborate. "There's lore about spirits 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 ghosts can go wherever they want."

"What, so this ghost just jumps into a kid who jumps onto the bus, and catches a ride into the school?" I thought about it for a moment, slowly nodding. "Doesn't seem too impossible."

Dean groaned. "Ghosts getting creative… well, that's super."

SPOV

On the bus, in the middle of the day, while the students and teachers were in class, Dean, Lizzie and I scanned it for any signs of a ghost. The EMF meter I was using was showing giving off a high reading, letting us know there definitely was some kind of ghost action going on.

"Here, ghosty, ghosty, ghosty," Dean called out to the ghost. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

I shook my head, not understanding the whole situation. "Man, I don't get it. No one ever died on this bus, and it's not like there's a body hidden in here."

"Yeah, but a flap of skin, a hair, I mean, hell, a hangnail. Something's got to be tying the ghost to this place." Dean wasn't wrong. "We just got to find it."

Lizzie sat behind the driver's seat, going through the papers and books she found in the compartment. "I found a new driving permit." She lifted the piece of paper up to show us.

Dean and I came over to take a look.

"Issued a couple of weeks ago," Dean read.

"Just before the first attack," I noted.

Dean grabbed the permit from Lizzie. "Name of the bus driver is Dirk McGregor Sr, 39 North Central Avenue."

"McGregor?" I frowned, recognising the name.

"Yeah." Dean nodded, looking away from the papers and to me. "Why?"

"I knew his son."

He scoffed lightly. "Did you know everybody at this school?"

I didn't just know McGregor… he was the kid who I got into the two fights with. He was the kid who'd been bullying Barry. He was the kid I beat up in front of the school so he'd stop being a jerk.

…

Dean, Lizzie and I sat on the three-seater couch in the McGregor home, across from Mr McGregor. He'd been surprised when I told him I'd been friends with his son, which had been a lie, but we needed a way to get inside and talk to him.

"So, you were friends with Dirk?" he asked us.

"Uh, yes, sir." I gave a short nod. "In high school."

"I don't recall Dirk having many friends at Truman."

Changing the subject, Dean turned the conversation toward Dirk's passing. "When did, uh… when did Dirk pass?"

"He was eighteen."

"What happened to him?" I asked.

"Well, there was, first, drinking, then drugs, and then too many drugs. And then he just slipped through my fingers. It was my fault. I should have seen it coming, you know? Dirk, he, uh… he had his troubles."

"Troubles?" Lizzie questioned.

"School was never easy for Dirk," Mr McGregor explained. "We didn't have much money, and, well, you know, kids, they can be cruel. They picked on him."

That's not how I remembered it… "They picked on him?"

Mr McGregor nodded. "They called him poor and dirty and stupid. They even had a nickname for him- Dirk the jerk." Oh…"And after what happened to his mother, he-"

I cut him off, "His mother?"

"Yeah, Jane, my wife. 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 slow, waste away to nothing… it does things to a person." Mr McGregor looked down at the ground. "Horrible things."

"I didn't know about his mother," I admitted.

"He- he wouldn't talk about her, not even to me. Lot of anger in that boy."

"I'm sorry."

"Well, we'd really like to pay our respects, Mr McGregor," Dean started. "Um, you mind telling us where Dirk is buried?"

"Oh, he wasn't. I had him cremated."

"All of him?" Dean asked, earning looks from the rest of us. Lizzie and I hoped we hadn't freaked Mr McGregor out, while Mr McGregor looked a little confused.

"Well, I kept a lock of his hair."

"Oh, that's- that's nice." Dean gave a little smile. "Where do you keep that?"

Frowning, confused and a little offended, Mr McGregor answered, "On my bus, in my Bible."

EPOV

I stood on the side of the road, hidden by the bushes as Dean, Sam and I watched and waited. We knew the bus would be coming down this way any minute. We knew Dirk would be on there. We knew the hair would be too.

Sure enough, the bus came flying down the road, way too fast. But that was stopped the moment the tires ran over the spike strip we'd laid out, tearing the tires to shreds.

We waited a moment longer as the doors opened and the driver stepped out, his almost robotic-like movements giving Dirk away.

"Dirk!" Sam called as he stepped out of the bushes, shotgun raised to the driver.

"Winchester. What are you gonna do, shoot me?"

"Don't need to."

As Dean and I stepped out of the bushes- on the other side of the road, Dean quickly wrapped the rope he was holding, around Dirk's torso, while I used my mind to hold it in place securely. Tying it tightly without having to touch it.

Sam nodded to the rope. "That rope is soaked in saltwater, Dirk. You're not going anywhere."

As I kept a hold on the rope, Dean moved to go on the bus to try and find the hair. "All right, everybody stay where you are. You'll be okay."

"Aren't you the P.E. Teacher?" someone asked from inside the bus.

"Not really. I'm like 21 Jump Street," Dean answered, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "The bus driver sells pot." There was a pause before he yelled out to us. "It's not here!"

Sam cocked his gun, still aiming it at Dirk. "Where is it?"

"No way you'll ever find it."

I squeezed my hand, making the rope tighten around Dirk. "Where. Is. It."

When Dirk simply let out a pained groan, but no answer, Sam stepped forward, pressed the gun to Dirk's chest. "Where is it?!"

Dirk just glared at him. "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 took a step back. "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."

"Nothing is gonna get better for me. Not ever." Dirk suddenly broke the ropes, flung his elbow back into my face- knocking me to the ground- before he started for Sam as Dean hurried out of the bus.

Sam fired the gun at him- though the driver was fine, it was just rock salt, not bullets. The driver fell back and onto the ground next to me, unmoving.

"Liz." Dean moved to offer me a hand, helping me to my feet. "You okay?"

"No." I groaned as I got up with help from Dean. "My face and ass hurt." the three of us looked down at the driver. "You think the son of a bitch is still in-"

Before I could finish, Sam was knocked to the ground by someone. Dean and I looked over to see a student kneeling over Sam, turning him over to punch him in the face. Dean grabbed Sam's gun- which had been knocked out of his grasp- and shot at the student, slash Dirk. But nothing happened.

"Find the hair!" Sam groaned, trying to fight Dirk off.

Moving quickly, Dean went back into the bus to look for the hair, while I hurried over to the bus driver, going off on a hunch as I started searching his pockets and everything. As I took the driver's boot off, the lock of hair fell onto the ground.

Grabbing it, I stood and lifted it above my other hand. "Hey, Dirk the Jerk!"

Dirk paused his beatings and turned to me, his eyes landing on the hair and going wide.

Suddenly a ball of flames grew from the palm of my hand, and with that, I dropped the lock of hair to my other hand, watching the fire in my hand burn it away. Dirk screamed and flew out of the student, the ghost burning in the air.

The student fell forward, landing right on top of Sam.

"Little help?" Sam called.

Dean- who had come out of the bus when Dirk had screamed- looked to his brother. "Huh… he's giving you the full cowgirl."

A wave of dizziness took over me before I could react to Dean's little joke. Stumbling a little, I reached for the bus, holding onto it to keep my steady and my energy depleted.

"Hey." Dean hurried over, concerned. "You okay? Liz? What's wrong?"

Feeling light-headed, weak, dizzy and short of breath, I shook my head gently. "I don't know." My grip on the bus slipped, causing me to start falling.

"Whoa!" Dean was right there, catching and pulling me up into his arms. "I gotta ya. I gotta ya," he assured me.

…

Once again, we were back at the school, Dean and I waiting for Sam to come back from talking to the teacher he'd wanted to talk to his old teacher.

We'd spent the night at the hotel, packing up and getting ready to move on. Well, the brothers had packed. They hadn't let me do anything. In fact, they wouldn't even let me stay in my own room. Even after I started feeling better, they were still worried I might collapse again.

But, like I said, I was better now.

Sitting in the back of Baby now, I leaned over the front seat and looked in the rear-view mirror to try and see what damage Dirk had done to my nose. It's not like he broke it or anything, but there was a little bruising, and it hurt like a bitch.

Dean sighed, shaking his head at me. "Liz, it's fine."

"It hurts." I pouted, looking at him. "And it's all purple and gross."

"It's not gross," he chuckled lightly. "You could never be gross."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow. "Even if I was covered in, I don't know… rotting guts?"

He shook his head again. "Not gross."

It was my turn to laugh. "The fact you think that, makes you gross."

"Then maybe we can be gross together." His grin grew a little as he shifted closer slightly.

Biting my lip, I shrugged. "Doesn't sound like a completely horrible idea."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but slowly and surely, we'd moved closer and closer to each other until there were just a couple of inches between us. I guess you could blame it on the uncontrollable pull between us. But now, as I looked from his lips to his eyes, seeing him do the same to mine, I could feel the unasked question hanging in the air.

Are we gonna do this?

Tristan and I hadn't spoken in over a month. We hadn't broken up, but it felt like we weren't together anymore. My gut was telling me to move on, and who better to move on with than Dean Winchester? The chemistry between us had been there from the moment we met, and it never seemed to burn out. I liked him. He liked me. So, why not?

Making my mind up- and acting before I could think myself out of it- I quickly pushed forward, pressing my lips to Dean's. It was just a kiss. Just a simple coming together of lips. But soon enough, it grew into more. It always did.

Dean's hand came up to cup my cheek gently as he deepened the kiss, pushing into it more. My own hand came up to grasp his shoulder as I moaned. It had been so long since we'd been like this, I'd almost forgotten what it was like. Almost forgotten what he tasted like. Smelt like.

It was as intoxicating as it had been the first time. He was surprisingly soft and smooth. He smelt like mint and leather, and that smell I could only describe as Dean. He tasted like the toothpaste he'd used the morning, and once again, just Dean. It was all Dean.

Suddenly, he grabbed me and pulled me over the seat and onto his lap so I was straddling him, our chests pressed together. His hands grasped my thighs, my hands gripped his hair. The kiss deepened into more as our bodies began to move instinctively, grinding against each other.

I could feel him, and it just added wood to the burning fire inside me. I wanted him. I wanted him bad. To feel him like I had many times before. He always felt so good. Always knew how to take care of me.

"Dean." His name fell from my lips in a moan.

He groaned. "If you say my name like that again-"

Pulling away, I bit my lip as I bucked against him, our eyes meeting. "Dean," I repeated, moaning harder this time.

Before I knew what was happening, Dean had put me on the seat beside him as he opened his door and slid out. Grabbing my hand, he helped me out as well before he closed the door and hurried for the school.

"Where are we going?"

He didn't answer as he took me down the halls, looking around carefully while in a hurry, his hand still firmly holding mine. When he came to a stop and reached for the door, he opened it and pulled us inside, flicking the light on as he did. It was a janitor's closet.

I laughed lightly, looking around. "Why do I get the feeling you've been in here before?"

"Don't worry. She meant nothing to me," he assured me as he moved closer to me again, pressing his lips to mine in a deepened kiss, hinting at what was to come.

SPOV

I walked up to the door of my old English room, seeing Mr Wyatt sitting at his desk, grading papers. Lifting my hand, I knocked on the door before stepping in.

"Uh, Mr Wyatt?"

Looking up from the paper he'd been working on, he turned to me. "Yes."

Walking closer to his desk, I gave a small smile. "You probably don't remember me, um… but my name is Sam Winchester, and I just wanted to thank you."

"For?"

"I was a student here, and uh," I shrugged, "you gave me some advice once."

"Winchester, right." He smiled, nodding as he got up. "Right. Yeah. You, uh… you wrote that horror story," he noted, reaching out to shake my hand.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. Yeah, it's kind of all been one long horror story."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing." I shook my head. "Sorry."

"So, what was this advice? I might need to plagiarise myself down the line," he chuckled lightly.

"You told me that I didn't have to go into the family business. You said I should make my own choices."

"So, you've managed to do your own thing, then, huh?"

"Yeah, for a while, yeah. And I think I went to college because of you. But, you know, people grow up. Responsibilities, and…" I shrugged. "But still, um… you took an interest in me when no one else did. That matters, so thank you."

"Well, you know, the only thing that really matters is that you're happy. Are you happy, Sam?"

I didn't know how to respond to that, because honestly… I wasn't too sure.

Bamby