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Dean wouldn't admit it to Sam, but he was absolutely delighted to be sitting in the dark in front of the dilapidated old school. They finally had a purpose again. Admittedly, when Dean had punched ghost-man earlier, he wasn't really expecting anything to happen. Sure, he could touch Sam, but he thought that might just be another advantage of Cas' deal. When his fist actually made contact, possibilities flashed through his head. Maybe, with practice, they could get back into hunting. Hell, it might even be easier now that they were ghosts themselves. It definitely made it easier to find the other spirits.

They had left Bobby to figure out his next step and went back to the school to keep an eye out for kids trying to look brave in front of their friends. Now, it was nearly four in the morning and nobody had showed up. Dean wasn't sure if they should go inside and seek out ghost-man. He was obviously more experienced in his ghostly ways, and Dean wasn't sure if there was something ghost-man could do to actually harm him and Sam. Earlier, he hadn't thought it was a necessary risk to take, but now he was beginning to think differently. What could he do besides throw a couple punches? He and Sam were good fighters. They could take him.

"Maybe we should go inside." Dean brought it up casually with a shrug. He didn't want Sam to think there was any reason not to.

"Why?"

"I dunno. Maybe we could talk to him or something." Yeah, that was good. Sam liked talking.

"I don't know, Dean..." Sam frowned slightly and looked up to the crumbling building.

"Ah come on, Sam." Dean smirked. "Live a little."

Sam huffed and dropped his shoulders. "Alright. Lets go."

They walked cautiously through the halls. It felt strange to be doing this without any weapons, but Dean reminded himself that the ghost couldn't kill them – he didn't think – and that even if they wanted to, they couldn't carry weapons with them. When Pamela had sent them into the spirit world for a day, they got a few pointers on how to be a bad-ass ghost from a kid named Cole, who happened to be the last person to die in the town. Still, what they learned was just a few simple things, and the skills didn't stay with them over the following years while they were alive. Dean was sure that they could learn again – how to pick up objects and move things with their minds – but they hadn't felt the need to try.

"We should learn some ghost moves." Dean whispered.

"Shh." Sam warned.

Then he was there. Ghost-man appeared suddenly at the end of the hall just like he had earlier when they were with Bobby, only this time he looked pissed.

"Uh. We're here to talk?" Dean tried, but ghost-man wasn't interested in listening. He charged down the hall toward them and slammed into Dean with the force of a freight train. Dean flew backward and hit the floor with a thud.

"Dean!" Sam shouted.

"Son of a bitch." Dean cursed, and then jumped up before ghost-man could get the upper hand on him again. He retaliated by kicking out the ghost's legs from under him and sending him sprawling to the ground. Dean almost laughed at the sight. This was so weird. Sam sprung into action and grabbed ghost-man's wrists, dragging him up to standing position and pulling his arms behind his back. Dean gave him one more punch in the stomach for good measure. "I said we just want to talk."

Ghost-man's lip curled. "What do you want?" He growled.

"What's your name?" Sam pulled ghost-man's arms tighter to show that he wasn't kidding.

"My name?" He smiled a wide, toothy grin. "What, you guys looking to make friends? You've got a funny way of going about it."

"Don't get smart." Dean warned.

Ghost-man tilted his head toward Dean. "Gregory Davis. And who might you two be?"

"We're asking the questions."

"Fine, what would you like to know?"

"Lets start with why you're killing high school kids, Greg." Dean demanded.

Davis sighed. "Why not?" He shrugged nonchalantly. "They asked for it."

"How?"

Davis shouldered his way out of Sam's grip and Sam let him go, but positioned himself so that he would be ready if Davis decided to attack again.

"They come in here looking for me." Davis sneered. "This is my place. I don't know about you two, but I'm stuck in this spot. They want to tear this place down. But if it goes, I go. I can't let that happen. I figure if I kill a few kids, people will be afraid to come near here."

"Oh sure, because that's a healthy solution." Dean said sarcastically.

"Well I had to do something."

"How'd you end up here?" Sam asked. "Did you die here?"

"Yeah." Davis turned his head to Sam with a frown on his face, clearly not happy to be cooperating. "I was murdered here. 1943. I was a custodian at this school, and I caught a teacher having relations with a student. I threatened to tell somebody, but I never got the chance."

"Makes sense." Dean said under his breath. "Janitors are always creepy looking."

Davis glared at Dean. "I'm sorry, who exactly are you? And how is it you can come and go as you please?"

"We've got connections." Dean pointed upwards with a smug smile.

Davis looked to the ceiling and then back to Dean with a confused look on his face. "Okay, so now what, boys? Are we just going to sit here playing 20 questions for the rest of eternity?"

"Nah." Dean shot back. "You wont be around that long."

Davis looked more annoyed than threatened. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. "Are you going to get your friend to come back and shoot me again? That was unpleasant, but come on. What kind of an idiot tries to shoot a ghost. We're already dead."

So this was definitely Greg Davis' first tango with a hunter. Of course it was. No hunter would have left the job undone. It seemed that Davis didn't even know about hunters, or rock salt, or that ghosts could in fact be killed. Dean could use this to his advantage. He tried to sound casual as he spoke.

"So, Greg, did you go to your funeral at least?"

Now Davis looked shocked. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, usually a ghost is allowed to leave to go to their own funeral." Dean said. Sam raised an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut. "Who wouldn't want to go to their own funeral, right? Come on, Greg. Were there a lot of people? Lots of crying ex-girlfriends?"

"I-I don't..." Davis stammered. "I didn't go."

Dean feigned shock. "What? Oh man, that's a bummer. My funeral was great. I mean, if I weren't dead for it." Davis looked like he had been slapped. Dean continued like he was talking about the weather. "Nicest little spot, too. Do you at least know where you were buried, Greg?"

Understanding flashed in Sam's eyes. After a moment, Davis answered. "Probably Riverside Cemetery. It's where my parents were buried."

The halls of the old school began to take on a yellow glow as the sun rose on the horizon and sunlight began to shine through the windows and holes where the wall had crumbled away. Dean glanced at a window. "Looks like we've got to be going, Greg. Don't go killing any more kids, you got it?"

As they disappeared, they heard Davis yell after them, but they were already gone.


They checked the cemetery. Sure enough, there was Gregory Davis, 1897-1943. Now if they could just find a way to get Bobby the information.

"We should tell Bobby." Dean voiced Sam's thoughts.

"Yeah." Sam paused. "I mean, I'm sure he would figure it out on his own eventually."

"Sure." Dean agreed. "But it would be so much easier for him..."

"And I don't really want to sit outside that school every night until he does figure it out..." Sam added.

They didn't say anything for a moment. They had been spirits now for nearly a year, and they hadn't tried anything other than the teleporting thing, but there was no way they were walking around the world. No moving things though, by hand or by mind. No talking to people, no appearing to people. Cas warned Dean not to. Well, he strongly advised against it. But now, what harm could they do? It's not like they were going to become one of the ghosts that they used to hunt. They weren't going to kill people, or even scare people. Nothing to draw attention to themselves. They could use the skills for good. Sam couldn't see any reason not to.

"You wanna learn ghost stuff?" Sam tilted his head toward Dean, giving him a look that said if you want to, I'm in.

"Lets learn ghost stuff." Dean grinned.

"Let's learn ghost stuff." Sam agreed.


Last time, the one other time that they were ghosts, it had only taken a couple hours for them to learn to move things with their minds. Of course, then they had a teacher. But it was just a kid who had only been dead for ten days. If he could do it, surely they would have no problem.

At first, it took quite a bit of concentration to move even the smallest thing. The more they practiced, though, they found that they could move basically anything they wanted – even when they were a little distracted. By the middle of the day, they had perfected the art of moving things with their hands and minds.

"This is so cool." Dean laughed as he watched a sheet of paper float around the room, controlled by his thoughts. "Sammy, why didn't you ever learn to do this when you were alive?"

Sam looked at him incredulously. "Are you kidding? Whenever I even thought about doing anything like this you basically threatened to disown me."

Dean shrugged. "Well I was right, wasn't I?"

Sam shook his head in disbelief.

"You should always listen to your big brother, Sam. I'm always right." Dean said absently. He was more focused on the paper in the air.

"Whatever." Sam said. "We should find some way to show Bobby what we found."

"Right." Dean agreed, turning his attention to Sam. The paper fluttered to the ground. "We should find an article about Greg's death and bring it to Bobby."

"Library?" Sam asked.

"Library." Dean agreed.

"You are not always right." Sam added under his breath.

"I heard that." Dean said. "And yes I am."

And with that, they were gone.


They waited, of course, until after hours to go to the library. Sam was in nerd heaven, Dean could see. After a year of not being able to read, other than peeking over people's shoulder as they sat in the park, Sam looked like a kid in a candy store. Like he would be perfectly content spending the rest of eternity just reading every book in the place from cover to cover. Dean was a little less enthusiastic. He was more excited about the fact that he could move things with his friggin' mind. What a trip.

"Come on, Sam. You're drooling all over the books."

Sam followed his brother to the newspaper archives. "I haven't been in a library in a long time." He retorted.

"Yeah. And you were homesick. Got it. We got work to do."

While Dean enjoyed leaning back in a chair and letting the different newspaper pages simply float in front of his face, Sam took the more traditional approach of simply setting the papers on a desk and fingering through them. Sam shot Dean a look.

"God, Sammy. You can't even have fun in your afterlife." Dean complained.

"Shut up." Sam replied. "I think I found something."

Dean let the current paper he was reading fall to the desk and looked over to Sam. "What is it?"

"An article about the school being closed down after a murder. Here we go. Gregory Davis. It's even got a photo of him."

Dean looked down to the familiar face on the page and smiled. "Yahtzee." He said. "Lets bring it to Bobby."


Bobby was asleep on the couch when they showed up in his living room. He shivered at the slight temperature drop, but didn't wake up. There was a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the floor next to him, and he was snoring loudly. Either he was still taking their deaths rather hard, or there was something else going on. Sam wished he could talk to Bobby, but he knew that it was best if he didn't. Besides, they hadn't learned to manifest yet.

"Put it on the laptop." Dean whispered, though there was no reason to. Bobby couldn't hear them. "He'll notice it there."

Sam nodded and placed the torn out newspaper article on top of Bobby's closed laptop. Bobby grunted and shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

"Now what?" Sam asked with a sympathetic look to Bobby.

"I guess we should go back to the school and make sure Greg doesn't kill anybody." Dean suggested.


They went back to Bobby's once the sun started to rise. The night was uneventful. Nobody tried going into the building, including themselves. They had everything they needed from Greg Davis, and didn't feel like another confrontation with the angry spirit, so they stayed outside.

Bobby was still asleep when they got back, which made sense since it was only 5:30 in the morning and Bobby had obviously had a couple drinks the night before. Dean paged through an Auto Trader magazine while they waited, and Sam looked through Bobby's files on Acham. He probably misses research as much as he misses living, Dean thought with a snort, and Sam paused from his reading long enough to raise an eyebrow at the noise.

"Looks like Acham's been causing a lot of trouble." Sam said.

"Yeah, what else is new?"

"Why burn a hospital though? Why crash a plane? Look at this one," Sam read from the paper he held, "Twelve prisoners disappear from from Riverbend Maximum Security Institution in Tennessee. Why would Acham do something like that?"

"Why do demons do anything?" Dean asked. "Because they're dicks who think they can run around and do whatever they want."

Sam frowned. "It doesn't make sense."

On the couch, Bobby stirred. A moment later he was rubbing his eyes and stretching. Sam and Dean waited as he stumbled around the house. He went into the bathroom to shower, then to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and start breakfast. Dean tapped his toe impatiently as Bobby sat at the table drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper.

"Come on." Dean complained.

Finally, Bobby made his way to his desk. Even there, he paged through a couple books before going to the laptop. His hand reached toward it and he paused when he saw the newspaper clipping lying on top.

"What the hell?" Bobby said as he grabbed the paper and examined it. His eyes went wide when he noticed the photo and recognized the ghost who had attacked him at the school. Immediately he pulled out his cell. "It's me." He said into the phone. "I got a lead... yeah, his name's Gregory Davis. He was murdered in the school in 1943... yeah... I'm on it."

Bobby spent the afternoon doing research. With Davis' name, he was easily able to find death records online and the name of the cemetery where he was buried. When the sun began to set, Bobby packed the Impala and hit the road.

Sam sat on the hood and Dean leaned against the side of the car as they watched Bobby dig up Gregory Davis' grave at Riverside Cemetery, and for once Dean was grateful they were ghosts and Bobby didn't know they were there. At least they didn't have to help with the digging. Sam, on the other hand, looked like he was feeling bad for making Bobby do all the work. Dean just shook his head.

Bobby finished the salt and burn in no time, and then they were on their way back to the old school to make sure Davis was gone. Sam and Dean had went ahead and checked it out before Bobby got there, just to be safe. Sure enough, there was no sign of Greg, so they zapped back to the Impala and enjoyed the ride. They made sure to stay in the car when Bobby went in with the EMF, and ten minutes later Bobby came back out with a smile on his face. They rode back to Bobby's in the Impala, feeling pretty good about themselves. Basically, they had solved this one themselves. Hell, if they wanted to they could have salted and burned the bones on their own, but then Bobby would have never figured out what happened, and probably would have spent weeks going back to the school and looking for Davis' ghost.

Next time, Dean promised himself. And there would be a next time. That night, as Bobby slept, Sam and Dean sat together in the Impala and talked about the hunt. It felt good to be back in it.