A/N: Hey everyone, sorry for the short chapter. I wanted to get an update posted so you wouldn't think I have abandoned this story! However, I am battling a little bit of block on this episode, and I'm wavering between pushing through it even if it means the next few chapters fall kind of flat, or working on another story until I get a little more inspired. I'm also working a ton of overtime this week, so my brain is a little fried. Thanks for your patience.

As Always,

EverReader

Disclaimer: Not my sandbox. My sandbox is big, green and shaped like a turtle. This...is not my sandbox.

Prisoner of War- Chapter Thirty-Two

"Gym Class Heros"

Dean shone his flashlight up and down the darkened hallway of the high school. It was far past midnight, and the halls seemed to echo with the dim cacophony of sneakers and slamming lockers.

"Hey, Sammy!" Dean whispered, deliberately shining the light in his sibling's eyes, "Which way is the girls locker rooms?" He waggled his eyebrows for good measure.

"Working, Dean." Sam muttered, jerking out of the way of the light. He turned and continued down the hallway, appearing solely focused on their mission.

Dean sighed inwardly. He had hoped this case might be a chance to reconnect with his brother, but if anything, Sam actually seemed even more uptight now than he was before. He was more withdrawn, hiding steadfastly behind the facts and eccentricities of the case so far.

"Okay, so the attack in the chemistry lab was on the second floor, west wing. So, down that hall, then to the left. The bathroom where Jennifer was murdered was on the first floor, north wing, just past the cafeteria." Sam said, using his own flashlight to demonstrate his directions, voice echoing softly.

"West? North? How many directions does this school have?" Dean muttered. He hadn't realized Sam's school was so big. High schools, any of the many he'd attended before dropping out, had always felt small to him, claustrophobic, almost, but now, at night, the halls seemed impossibly long and dark.

They felt lonely.

"Four Dean. Like a compass." Sam answered, deadpan. He swung his light back and forth, the light glancing off the dull metal of the lockers and the windows of the doors as they passed.

"Bitch." Dean muttered, glancing at Sam with a crooked smirk.

Sam looked over at him, startled. He started to open his mouth, then closed it again just as quickly.

"Jerk." He finally muttered, now looking anywhere but directly at Dean.

Dean frowned, shaking off his unease at the fact that once again, Sam just seemed to be...reading a script.

Dean couldn't decide if Sam still felt the weight of their argument, or simply the weight of all the things they had argued about. The things Sam had said had been...bleak, to say the least. But Dean knew that crazy teenage hormones could do a number on a person, God knew, Sam had had his share of angst over the past few years.

But what he'd said back in Indiana had been more than angsty, it had been...hopeless.

"Okay. So, the two victims had a couple of classes together, but the perps didn't. Different years, different classes." Sam said, startling Dean out of his thoughts.

"What about the office? Did you check their records?" Dean asked, keeping an eye of his homemade EMF reader as they made their way down the hall.

"Yeah. While you were disabling the back up on the camera system. They live on the same side of town, but different neighborhoods. Neither one has any records of fighting or violence, though Alex had been roughed up a couple of times over the past few months." Sam replied, coming over to look at the reader over Dean's shoulder. "You getting anything?"

"Nah, not really. Every once in a while, it blips, but my guess is, it's just residual. I don't think it's the school, it's just happening at the school." Dean said, glancing around them once again.

Sam shook his head. "That's a hell of a coincidence, unless whatever this spirit is is targeting high schoolers on purpose. Or, a cursed object some kid is bringing to school, in their bag or something."

"Could be the spirit of a high schooler. Almost for sure, if I had to bet. The victims might not have anything tangible in common, other than the school. But no way someone dies in this school without making the newspapers, and we checked everything back to the original land grants. Let's check out the science lab." Dean replied.

The quickly made their way to the second floor. With just a few deft movements of his lock picks, Dean had them in the science lab. Sam started investigating the actual lab area, my Dean started checking first the teacher's desk and then to storage area.

"Look at all this crap. What the hell is all this stuff for, Sam? Making nuclear bombs?" Dean asked, shining his light over the bottles of chemicals locked in the chemistry labs storage closet.

Sam shrugged. "Well, that's how nuclear bombs got their start, I guess. That acid would definitely done a number on Tyler's face. If it had got into his throat, it might have killed him." Sam said noncommittally.

Dean glanced over at his brother, who was examining the lab table where Alex and Tyler had been sitting. "So, I take it you know what to do with all this stuff, being a science nerd and all."

He hadn't given up on breaking through Sam's shell. Time was, Sam would have happily talked for hours about school. That Sam had to be in there somewhere. Dean didn't want a return to all the fighting and the drama, it was true, but Sam was only sixteen. He still had nearly two years of high school left, and unlike Dean, Sam had always enjoyed school. Dean knew they had to move around a lot, it was unavoidable, but he still hoped Sam could enjoy as much as possible.

Surely there was some kind of happy medium.

Sam shrugged, uncomfortable once again.. "I know enough to pass. Science was never my forte."

Dean snorted. "Dude, you forget, I'm the one who fakes Dad's signatures on your grade cards. Everything's your forte."

It was true. From his first day of kindergarten, Sam had earned nearly straight A's. Dean would say that good grades came easily to his brother, but regardless of how easy he could get the "A", Sam always pushed himself to the next level, refusing to settle for less than the challenge.

Was that what he was doing now?

Sam knelt, ignoring Dean as he focused on a dark substance on the floor. "I don't know about that..." He murmured, dragging his pen knife through the black gunk and holding it up for Dean's perusal.

"But I know what that is." Sam added grimly.

Dean narrowed his eyes as he knelt beside his brother. "Dude, is that ectoplasm?"

"Yeah. I think...Dean, when I wrestled Alex down to the ground, he was laying on his stomach, and his head was turned...to the left. I think this came out of him, out of...his ear." Sam said slowly.

"That's a full on ghost possession then, and a hell of a nasty one." Dean replied, sitting back on his heels.

Sam nodded mutely. "But we still can't tie the perps and the victims together. I don't know the pattern, except..."

"Except?" Dean prodded, when Sam didn't finish his sentence.

"Well, Jen was know to be kind of bitchy to the other students. She was pretty, but..." Sam trailed off again.

"In a mean girl kind of way?" Dean offered, remembering how cruel some of the girls he had dated could be to the school's lower class citizens.

"This is nuts." Sam was shaking his head.

"Nothing like this has happened here, until now." Sam said, pushing away, distress clear on his face

"Hey, Sammy, come on man, it's gonna be okay. We'll figure it out." Dean said reassuringly, reaching for Sam's shoulder, but Sam danced away, and Dean was forced to let his hand drop to his side.

Sam looked at him in disbelief. "Dean, my damned high school is haunted. We didn't come to Caroline to hunt ghosts, we came because it was central to dad's big, top secret plan. We're not chasing after the ghost this time, it's practically throwing itself at us." He ran his hand restlessly through his shaggy hair.

"What, you think this is some kind of ghost conspiracy?" Dean asked, hoping a joke would lighten the mood.

Sam just shook his head, closing his eyes for a minute as he turned away. "No, just my life." He muttered.

Once again, Dean flashed back to their fight in the motel room, about what Sam said about not getting to have college or friends or anything normal.

Damn it.

"Sam. We're going to find whatever is causing the problem, and we're gonna gank it. Then you can take all the damn AP classes your nerdy heart desires." Dean said sternly.

His brother looked at him tiredly. "Yeah, Dean. Whatever you say."

Dean closed his eyes, silently counting to ten. He looked a Sam again, really looked at him, at the lines of weariness, the dark shadows under the kid's eyes.

"Okay, we're not going to find anything else here. Let's head home for the night. We can start fresh tomorrow." He decided.

Sam shook his head. "We still have no idea what we are up against, Dean."

"We'll start again tomorrow, Sam." Dean insisted, leading Sam down the stairs towards the side door they had disabled in order to get into the building.

"There's school tomorrow. Normally, I'd skip, but the school's the only lead we have." Sam said as they climbed into the Impala. "What, are you going to hit the library by yourself tomorrow?"

Dean snorted. "No, I think the library's a dead end. You're right, the school's our only real lead."

"So, what's the plan? You're not exactly gonna pass for a high school student, besides, half my grade knows your my brother." Sam asked as they pulled up in front of their rental.

"Your handsome, charming brother." Dean corrected with a smirk.

"Dude, still working here. Seriously, what's your plan?" Sam insisted, climbing out of the car.

"Well, this thing targets bullies right?" Dean asked, shutting the Impala's door shut behind him.

"Yeah, so far anyway." Sam said warily.

Dean smiled. "Well, what better place to hunt a bully than gym class?"

"Oh, god." Sam said, a tone of desperation in his voice. "I thought you swore never to wear shorts again."

"It's for the cause, Sam. It's for the cause. Don't worry, you don't have gym this semester, right?" Dean said with a gleeful smile.

"I tested out." Sam said faintly, a look of mild horror still lingering on his face.

"How the hell do you test out of Gym?" Dean asked incredulously, turning back to look at his brother in amusement.

"You do more push ups than the coach." Sam replied, as he started up the stairs.

"With your bum shoulder?" Dean asked, scrunching up his nose. Push-ups sucked on a good day.

'Yeah, I...did them one handed." Sam replied self consciously, before heading to his room.

"Geez, I'm gonna have to start training again. Damn showoff." Dean muttered.