They'd gotten up early, way too early on a Saturday for Dean's liking, and trekked back to the girls' school to look up alumni. By the afternoon they'd tracked down Claire Montgomery, now Claire Gibson, who lived an hour away. So by afternoon, they were knocking at her door, clutching the few pictures of their mother they had, along with a yearbook Dean had swiped that morning from the library.

Claire Gibson opened the door and looked at the two boys standing there. There was no doubt in her mind whose sons they were. She smiled at them and her features softened as she looked at Dean. "You have your mother's eyes." She said. "I would have known you were her son even if I weren't expecting you two. " She told them, as she opened the door for them, and laughed softly. "Although I can see the glint of your father in there too. Is he still as ornery as ever?" John Winchester had always been quick to smile, laughing easily.

"That's one way to put it." Dean said with a laugh as she showed them to a living room. "You were expecting us? Did Dad call you?" Weird that they were expected, but if she offered them food, Dean wasn't going to turn it down. Though he did like hearing that he had his mother's eyes.

"Yes he did." Claire said. "I was so sorry to hear about your mother's passing. " She told them as she led them inside. "Not surprised that your father still chokes up when he talks about it, all these years later. "

Dean nodded at that. Choked up didn't quite describe it. More like tended to shut down, at least in Dean's view. Around her birthday, their wedding anniversary, the date of her death, Dean became solely responsible for making sure John and Sam did normal things. Like eat. Sleep. Bathe. Had been that way pretty much since she died.

"We're at the military school; guess it's a family tradition or something." He said with a shrug. "I did get a hold of the yearbook from Mom's years there. Can we ask you questions about it?"

"Of course, anything you would like to know. I think I have a few photo albums from back in our school days as well if you like. Would you boys like something to drink? I have lemonade in the refrigerator."

"Yes, thank you." Dean said. He and Sam were in awe of this woman, a connection to their mother before she was their mother. "So the candid shots in here aren't labeled at all." Since they did have a job to do, why not kill two birds with one stone?

"Oh I can help you out with that." She said as she led the way into the kitchen and indicated that the boys take a seat at the table there. She poured three glasses of lemonade and set them on the table before joining them. "Tell me a little about yourselves." She asked.

Now that was always a question. Usually they were living one con or another. Even now, Dean figured. "Um...I'll be eighteen in a couple of months. Sam here, he's thirteen." At which Sam looked at him. "And almost a half. Thirteen and almost a half." He said with a chuckle. "I don't know, I guess we're kinda normal?" Under extraordinary circumstances, they managed to convince most other people of that anyway.

"I don't think I have ever met a normal teenager " She said with a smile, but let it pass. She looked over at Sam who was strangely quiet. She could understand, she supposed. So sad that he had no memory of their mother. "So what would you like to know?"

"Just about anything really." Dean said as he took out the year book. "I don't know who this is?" He said, pointing to a picture with the ghost in it. "She's kinda cute."

"My word, I haven't thought of her in years. That is Sarah Mitchell. Her aunt was the school librarian. She ran away in the middle of our junior year. Poor dear. She wasn't very happy at the school. Your mother was always kind to her though. Mary had a way with people even when we were girls."

"I remember her that way." Dean said. "Dad mentioned the girls' school was a little more....separated by class....than the military school. So she ran off? That's sad."

"We all liked to think she ran off with her mystery boyfriend." Claire said. "We were such romantics and very naïve back then, Sarah used to sneak out at night to go out with a boy. She said she couldn't tell us who he was. We all figured it had to be one of the boys from the military school, because, well, the local boys weren't all that worried about status. It was just as bad in your school back then as ours. All over really. The wealthy didn't fraternize with those that weren't. Most of the time we figured if you
could afford to get in, you were acceptable… b us it could get pretty nasty if it were discovered to be otherwise. Poor Sarah- she didn't have a chance. It was known from the beginning."

Dean flipped a page. "Anyone from the boys' school go missing? Maybe they ran off together. Teenage boys are known for doing stupid things, you know." He said with a quick grin.

She laughed then. "Oh I know, having raised a couple of those myself." She said. "And no, we never heard of anyone disappearing from the boys' school. Of course they were always ones to keep things hush hush."

"Wow. That's just messed up." Dean said and flipped the page again to one of their mother on the yearbook committee, pulling Claire into sharing memories about their mother. He had a feeling she'd said all she knew, she might have guesses, but she couldn't be pushed right now.

Claire was more than happy to speak about her old friend. Even Sam was drawn into the conversation as they looked through yearbooks and photo albums. Pictures of young girls at play, serious moments important only to teenagers, pictures of school dances. Some included their father, the two of them inseparable even then. There was a light in their father's eyes as he looked at Mary, even then, that shone though the pictures. She would point out their mutual friends and indicate which ones had gone on to be teachers, which had died in the war.

Dean knew their father had gone onto the Marines. It had been the end of the Vietnam War, but it was still war. He hadn't married their mother until after he'd come back from overseas, and it was a bit after Dean had been born before he ended his bid with the Marines. He'd garnered all that over the years, from asides from their father. John never really sat down and talked about their mother like Claire was doing. And he'd never heard about his mother being his age really. His mother w as nearly immortalized at the age she was when she died, and that was all. Never older, never younger. But at least he had some memories. All Sam had were old pictures.

Sam seemed to be drinking in all that she was saying, staring long and hard at the photos. Especially the ones with both of his parents. He had never seen his father happy. Not truly happy. He would of course have moments of pleasure and pride, no one could live in misery every second, but his eyes were always sad, or angry. The man in the photos was as much a stranger to him as the woman. "Hey, isn't that Sarah?" He said looking at one of the people in the back ground of a military ball photo; she was dancing very closely with someone in uniform, in a way that Sam knew suggested more than a casual request to dance.

Claire looked close at the photo. "It is. I remember that dress, she looked like a princess that night." Claire said with a fond smile and wrinkled her brow as she shook her head. "I can't remember who she danced with that night." The face was partially obscured by another girl's hair.

"Was this the night she disappeared?" Sam asked looking closely at the picture hoping for an idea of who it was. Not that who she was dancing with was necessarily responsible. But it might have been a clue- find out who the last person was to see her alive.

Claire shook her head. "No, it was about two months later. Someone said they saw her sneaking out of the dorm, I forget who, and that was it. Never saw her again." Claire said. "I don't know, maybe we could have been nicer to her, I've always wondered if we ran her off. Teenagers are stupid, and cruel. At least girls are."

"Trust me," Sam said, with the voice of experience, "boys are too." So much for the photo being a clue. She might have just been enjoying a dance with the guy then took off on her own t o wind up dead there at the school later.

"I haven't thought of her in years." Claire said as she flipped through the pages. "Always wondered what happened to her, her aunt retired after that year, I think she blamed herself for Sarah going missing in a way. But your father cut quite the dashing figure, at least when we were teenagers. Such broad shoulders, but he had eyes only for your mother from the moment they met."

"That much is still the same." Sam said. "I've never seen him show any interest in a woman at all." He didn't really give much thought to it really, figured the hunt was too important.

Dean and Sam spent time going through the yearbook with Claire, garnering more stories about their mother, and some more on Sarah. Dean was absolutely positive that Sarah was the ghost that he saw in the theater. So that was one down. Now they just had to find her and take care of her.

"Thank you." Dean said to Claire as she showed them out.

Sam nodded his thanks as well, and then turned to walk silently to the car. It was a very different image of their parents than Sam had grown up with. It was a completely alien image of their father, and their mother was immortalized through Dean's 4 year old memories which were probably more impressionistic than he would want to admit. It was good to know more about her, even if in Sam's mind she really was still an abstract. He would like to say that he missed her. But the truth was he never really knew her. But he was very much affected by her absence, and the changes it made in their father. He wished he had known the man that laughed and played and told bedtime stories.

"That was different." Dean said. He'd loved hearing about his mother. Her absence was felt even more profoundly now, however, and he had to shake off the melancholy. Unlike Sam, who was much too young, he remembered his mother. Her laugh, her smile, and the feel of her hands when she'd tuck him into bed.

"Yeah it was... didn't recognize Dad from her description either." He said quietly. "Not sure we made any progress on the job though." He knew they had to hurry on this one. Their father was getting worse. If they weren't out of there by November, they would be orphans and not because of some ghost.

"Well, we know the girl's name. We didn't know that before." Dean pointed out. "And that her aunt was the librarian over at the girls' school. Also something important. We know she went to school there, so we'll find something else. It's been a good day, for the case too."

Sam nodded. "Let's get back to Dad. Maybe us finding something out will cheer him up a little. Or ... we should I don't know... take him out somewhere and... train ... something... I'm worried about him, Dean."

"You have to be if you're suggesting training." Dean said as they got back into the car. "I don't know, maybe it's because we're creeping up on November. Usually he finds something to hunt and we don't see him. We don't know exactly what normal is for this time of year."

"Dude, have you looked at him lately? I swear he is more likely to off himself than any of the kids at the school, even with that girl's involvement." Sam said and frowned. "I want to break back into the office tonight." He told his brother. "Make sure Dad doesn't have any ... you know... instructions for if something should happen to him there. Maybe check his room during one of our free hours."

"I already went into his room yesterday." Dean confessed. "Took his keys, dumped all the booze out. He can't go anywhere at least. I mean, sure he could hotwire something, but I doubt he will, he works there after all." He had seen his father, which led to him dumping out bottle after bottle and throwing out the already emptied ones.

"Yeah but were you looking for paper work or just his stash of bottles. Dad drinks hard but not this hard... " Sam shook his head. "I'm worried that he might be getting suicidal. And I know he wouldn't leave us without making preparations for ... you know."

"And if we find some papers, what then? At least then we'd know? I don't think I really want to know if he's that bad. Why don't we just put him on watch anyway?" Dean suggested.

"Aren't you supposed to confront people when they are suicidal? That's what you did to me when you read my journal. Never mind I wasn't suicidal." He said, giving his brother a look that only a 14 year old boy could do.

Dean had the decency to look ashamed that he'd read his brother's journal. "Difference is I can take you. Not sure I can take Dad." Dean said flippantly. "But fine, you want to confront him, we'll confront him."
BR"W e don't have to b e able to take him... and if he's drunk again, we can take him." He said. "We just need to talk to him... it's better to confront him on it than let him think we don't care or something. " Sam had read a lot on it the previous year. Not enough to really know anything, but enough to know that they had to do something.

"Okay, okay, we'll talk to him." Dean said. "You're such a nag." He said with a chuckle as he drove back to the school. "Then we'll jog his memory about the girl."

"Thanks." Sam said. "Besides... we are dealing with a ghost that creates suicidal feelings. Dad's in the teacher's slot and well... let's face it... if anyone has seen or been through enough to make them a prime candidate for suicide... it's Dad." Sam pointed out. "Especially this time of year. And that reminds me... you would tell me if you started to feel that way right? I mean... you did piss her off."

"Dude, I'm not going to off myself." Dean said with a scowl. For one simple reason, if he did, who would take care of Sam? Sam was right, this was a bad time of year. "You'd tell me, though, right?"

"Yeah I would tell you, but Dean... this isn't about what we would normally do. This is all about the ghost. What she wants them to do. She is exacting revenge and the students are surrogates. I doubt any of them wanted to die before she started messing with their heads."

"Okay, good point." Dean allowed. "But I'm not going anywhere. Don't worry so much about me."

"You worry about me. It's only right that I worry about you. And right now we both need to be worried about Dad. " He said. "Dad's in the teacher position that always gets it, and he is acting depressed. Even more depressed and moody than usual."

"Five minutes from the school." Dean reminded Sam as he drove. "We're getting there. Maybe if we just solve this thing and lay the girl to rest things will get back to normal. But don't expect Dad to be Mr. Sunshine regardless."

"Dad is never Mr. Sunshine." Sam said. "But he has never been this bad. He has never been drunk 2 nights out of three unless he was in pain, or it was November 2nd. This is neither. This is extreme for him. Dude, he was talking to me." Sam said. "I mean talking to me not at me... being reassuring. How often has dad done that since I found out the truth?"

"Reassuring? Dad?" Dean asked. And pressed on the gas a little harder. "Okay, you've got a point. Dad is officially going to be babysat."

"Thank you." Sam said, glad that he had finally gotten the point across to his brother. It wasn't that he didn't like his father being reassuring. He liked it a lot, wished his father would be like that more often, but the fact of the matter was, that just wasn't John Winchester. He didn't reassure himself much less anyone else.

They arrived at the school in short order and found their father in the staff lounge, supposedly reading a newspaper, but Dean wasn't so sure a page had actually been turned.

"Okay, we identified the ghost. I'm absolutely sure on it." Dean said as he sat across from his father. No one else was in the lounge. "Sarah Mitchell, went to school with Mom."

"Name doesn't ring any bells, but there were a lot of girls that went to school with your mom." He said. "So what else did you find out about the girl?" John asked. The boys had been taught to be thorough and no one really questioned that teenagers were curious.

"She disappeared from the school two months later." Dean said. "She was of, I guess, a lower class, her aunt was the librarian, retired now. We're hitting her up next. But apparently Sarah used to sneak out to meet some guy, and it was all a big secret."

"Can't say that's a new thing around here. I've seen at least three boys sneaking off to the woods in between the schools since we have been here. I left them alone. They weren't in the target classes." John said. "This doesn't narrow the who down much. But the who might not be important."

"I did some more research, there's no other reports of disappearances or murders that match the profile." Dean said. "So maybe the who isn't important, but the what might be. No pattern, it's not something in the environment. The who is a ghost. The how is how did she become a ghost and the what is what happened to her."

"This leaves us with almost as many questions as we had getting into this job. Guess we have to figure out who else was around here back then. " John said.

"But it has to have something to do with the Phys ed instructor, someone in the drama club and someone in the science club." Sam pointed out. "Maybe we could see the records for those classes. Maybe something happened to them too."

"You were in school with her." Dean reminded his father. "Do you remember anything unusual? What are the chances we can talk to the headmaster? He was the one who brought us here for this after all."

"Nothing sticks out in my head." John said. "I don't have to tell you boys what high school is like. Even in an all boy's school, everyone has their drama, and there are a lot of odd people crammed in together at one time. There was a lot of unusual things going on, all them perfectly normal, and a very long time ago. Did anyone commit suicide? Not that I remember. Or maybe
more to the point, not that we were told about. I don't remember anyone dying. But we were all looking at the war coming at us head on, back then. We were all stressed and self involved. I was focusing on your mother, praying that she would wait for me until I came back."

"Apparently she did." Dean said, remembering the stories their mother' s old friend h ad told them . "Which was great for us, let me tell you. I like the whole existing part and all."

John actually smiled faintly at that. "Yeah, I like you boys existing too." He said, and didn't notice the look Sam cast at Dean.

"Okay... so it centers on the drama department, the science club, and the coach. Which by the way is you, Dad... so you would tell us if you started feeling ... you know... more depressed than usual, right?"

"I'm fine." John said. "Just a lot of old memories in this place."

Dean looked at Sam. "I bet." He said. "So what should we do now?"

"I don't know... find out what happened to the coach that year, I guess. If they covered up anything that happened with the kids, maybe the first place to look is the coach. "

"If it all ties to this girl, there might not be anything that year. We should start looking at the following year." Dean said thought fully. "And we've done that, really. We've got the research. We need to track down the people in that original group. You're the alumni, Dad. You've got a better shot at it than us." Anything to keep his dad focused on the case and off whatever it was that was dragging him down right now.

"I think it all ties in to her disappearance." Sam said, but watched his father anyway.

John nodded. "I'll see who I can get a hold of." He told his boys. "There's talk of a reunion of sorts at the Military Ball this year." He said. "Gives the perfect excuse."

"So nominate yourself onto the committee to track some of the guys down." Dean suggested. "We'll see what we can dig up on the recent years. They like to encourage seniors to contact recent alumni for college and career advice."

"Sounds like a plan. You boys have done well. Best get about your homework." He said as he got to his feet. He should never have brought the boys here. T here were too many memories, and John was having a hard time focusing on anything but the memories.

Dean scowled at the mention of homework. "Yes sir." He said and watched his father carefully. Hopefully keeping his days filled would do something to keep the spirit at bay. At least around his father. He had to worry about Sam too....the ghost had already hit the drama club, unsuccessfully, but hit it all the same. The thought of the drama club made him groan. "I've got rehearsal too."

Sam laughed out loud. "I think I may have to watch too. You know" he said with a grin "Just in case the ghost shows up again. Someone has to be looking for her."

John left the boys to their home work and rehearsals. He couldn't help but smile a little as he thought of Dean in a school play. The smile didn't last. They rarely did anymore. He picked the lock to the headmaster's office and went inside. He could have asked. After all, he was the one that had asked him to come. But something told John that it was better this particular excursion was kept to himself. He remembered more than he had told his sons about his days at the academy.

He photo copied the files of all the deceased students. Suicides, accidents, there had even been two homicides since John's senior year. 24 dead. He dug a little deeper and found that there had been other accidents boys that had survived, barely, all from the science club, Drama department… and the coach. Three coaches had been fired for alcohol problems, two had killed themselves after leaving their position.

He photocopied the documents and the photographs in the files, he also made photocopies of several pictures from the year book for his senior year. The drama club, and the science club. He enlarged those so that he could see the faces clearly. All of this he took with him to his office and locked the door .

He s et a pistol on t he desk, at easy reach for one hand, a bottle of tequila in easy reach of the other, and spread out his research in front of him. The boys had given him a direction to go in. But he had to keep that secret from them for now. If what he suspected was true, then the less those boys actually knew, the safer it would be for them. Not from the ghost… but not all the darkness and danger in this place came from the ghost. No… not if what John suspected was true.

He set out the photographs of the two clubs in front of him and started going through his photo copies of files. He looked for similarities, names, faces, positions held.

Of course Sam had to come and watch. Of course Sam took great joy in his brother's humiliation. Of course.

Well, payback was a bitch, and Sam would get his. That Dean was guaranteeing. Might not be immediate, but Sam would definitely get his. Next time, he'd fight harder if his father came up with another idea like this. Because this sucked. Dammit, he had an image to uphold.

"It's the oldest established permanent floating crap game in New York." He sang. Because he was forced to. Now he was really mad at this ghost. Had to go after the guy he was understudying, right?

Brad was off in the wings watching as it wasn't one of his scenes. He thought that Dean made a better Nathan than the other kid. Probably because he had the look on his face that he would rather be anywhere than where he was, and let's face it, that was Nathan's condition throughout the play and that was what most people remembered of Guys and Dolls.

Dean sat on the edge of the stage when the director stopped them to adjust some of the positioning of the chorus. "You're holding up well." He said to Brad. Brad had had the blinders pulled from his eyes. Dean didn't clearly remember having blinders, ever, but he imagined it would b e hard.

"That's because I don't think about it. " Brad said. "Other than the fact that I have to protect Jimmy. I don't know if it was a distraction or if she shifted her attention to him." He said, looking over to the chorus where his little brother was performing.

"Salt." Dean said. "Put a layer of salt under the carpet in his room. That will keep it away from him when he's in there."

Brad nodded. "Will do." He said. "And besides... it's a ghost... everyone has a grandmother or something that has supposedly seen a ghost somewhere. It's not like a vampire was breathing down my neck or something." He shrugged. "Or maybe I'm cracked in the head or something. They said Graham was gonna be okay, but his parents are coming to get him to take him home in a few days. So if we want to talk to him about what happened, it's gonna have to be ASAP."

"Once we're done here, we'll blow this joint." Dean said as the director made a motion that they were to do the scene again and he grimaced. "But hey, you're in luck. Vampires are extinct. Apparently already wiped out and everything."

"Well that's good." He said as he went back to the wings so that they could do the barber shop number again. Maybe if they got through that they could get back onto the cheesecake scene and he could have something to do other than watch warily, waiting for something to happen. He wasn't doing as well as he told Dean he was. But he was an old hat at faking it. It had hurt like hell to have his bone marrow removed and he had smiled the whole time so his little brother wouldn't know that he was hurting. He had pretended not to be hovering over Jimmy the entire time he was sick. He pretended to be good at this whole military crap to please his father. He was an actor. Pretending was what he was good at.

John Winchester sighed and circled several possibilities. It left him with 5 possibilities as the original offenders. Whatever that offense was. One of them the head master. He leaned back in his chair and took a long drink of the tequila and relaxed. It was a start. Soon it would be over and he could relax and let the boys finish the year here. It would be good for them. He could look at it as training.

"She was so sweet... so pretty...it's your fault she's dead... you should have known something was wrong."

John closed his eyes slowly, rubbing his face with one hand, the other resting on the pistol.

"So many failures." The voice said, and John could feel it reaching into his very soul. The weight of it all pressing on him. He took another long drink of the tequila. Steeling himself as he had every night since arriving there. "Those boys deserve so much better. Dean will be dead before he reaches 30... and Sam... Sam is floundering. Because of you."

He wiped at the tears in his eyes. It hurt. It hurt so much that he couldn't breathe. His boys were all that was left of Mary. He missed her so much. So very much.

He pressed the gun to his temple. Holding it there, feeling the cold steel biting into him.

"You could be with her again... see her again. Your boys would be better off without you. They could grow up to be good men. Families... they won't have that with you. They will never have that with you."

He clenched his teeth, finger resting on the trigger, the barest of pressure needed to end it all. To put things as right as he could for his boys. He pressed the gun tighter against his flesh, feeling the sight at the end of the barrel tear a little at his skin. Pain. Minor. Pain none the less. Physical pain. It brought a momentary shock of reality and John's hand moved quickly, a new target acquired without conscious thought. "I told you before. You are going to have to come up with something I don't tell myself every damned day for your mojo to work on me." He said and pulled the trigger.

Rock salt sprayed the ghost, and she dissipated with an enraged shriek.

"Ungrateful bitch." John muttered, setting the gun down on the desk once more, and took another long drink of tequila.

There was an insistent knock at the door. "John?" Dylan McAllister said. The headmaster. Formerly a classmate of John's. "John? I heard a shot....is everything all right? John?"

John put the tequila away, and locked his drawer before getting up to go unlock the door and let his one time friend into the room "Yeah. I'm fine. Got a few questions though." He said and indicated the other man should have a seat.

"The parents of my unfortunate student is taking him home to rest in a few days." Dylan said as he took a seat and relaxed comfortably in the chair. "And life is continuing on until the next time. Please say you've made some headway on what's causing this?"

"Yeah... I'm afraid so." He said as he sat down himself. "Who was Sarah Mitchell?" He asked lean ing back, comfortably, fixing the other man with a gaze that had been known to break lesser men.

Dylan's brow furrowed. "Sarah Mitchell." He repeated slowly, then shook his head. "Well, I know it wasn't someone we went to school with. Name sounds like it should ring a bell, maybe. You think she has something to do with this? Someone in town setting up a coven or something?"

"Teenaged girl that disappeared after the military ball our senior year. She was the niece of the librarian at the girls' school." John said. "The boys spotted the ghost when the cadet tried to hang himself. They say she matches the pictures they found of the girl."

"Does she?" Dylan said and shook his head. "I don't remember her. That was over twenty years ago." He reminded John. "So this...person...ghost....is behind all the attacks?"

"Don't feel bad, I didn't remember her either, and she was friends with Mary." He said, a haunted look returning to his eyes. "Yeah. I was figuring it was a ghost all along, but now we have something to go on. She is haunting the school, she either died here or is buried here or both. I'll let you know if I figure anything else out. " John frowned. "Look, until I know more about her and what happened, let's keep this between you and me."

"I'm glad you said that. Because I was about to go on the loudspeaker, right after the pledge of allegiance in the morning, and ask the kids that if they see a homicidal ghost prowling the grounds, to please report this to their phys ed teacher." Dylan deadpanned.

John chuckled. "You know what I meant. " He shook his head. "On a different note, how goes the alumni ball you were talking about?"

"Preparations are done. Just have to send out the invitations." Dylan said. "Which means some tracking down of people, but I delegated that to the alumni committee, who'll de legate that to student s soon enough. Second Saturday of December is when we have it planned. Should be a good turn out."

John nodded. "I'll see that the boys do their share of the skip tracing." He said. "Sounds good. It'll be good to see some of the old faces. Too many young ones around here. I am starting to feel my age." He joked. Faking it really. The ghost's words still hung over him, echoing in his mind. "The boys are doing well here, though."

"I had doubts about your older one, but he's doing exceptional. They both are. I stopped into the science club, Sam's working on some molecular model....I'm not sure I understood one word of it."

"That's Sam for you. The kid is brilliant, and knows his way around a book." John said. "But don't let Dean fool you. Just because he is a hands on kind of man, doesn't mean he isn't as smart as his brother. The difference between a good sergeant and a good officer." John knew from experience that a good sergeant was worth his weight in gold or Havana cigars. A sergeant could keep you and your buddies alive.

Dylan chuckled. "Non com to the end." He said to John with a smile. He'd served in Vietnam as a noncommissioned officer as well. But after the war, attended West Point and received his officer bars

"Damned straight." John answered in return, grinning. "That's why you called me to handle this job." He was joking. It was good to joke. He needed to lighten the mood in the room, to chase away the ghost completely. He knew once Dylan left, her words would haunt him once more.

"It's good to have you around." Dylan said. "I wish it didn't take this for you to return a phone call or two. I can try to swing a permanent position here for you."

John shook his head. "No, no... too many ghosts of a different kind here for me." He said. "But there is something I would ask. Dean is a senior this year. He won't need it... but if anything should happen to me before Sam is an adult... I would like to send him here to finish his schooling... give him some place... safe."

"And what do I do with Dean?" Dylan asked. "Even I can see he won't leave his brother behind if something happened to you."

John sighed. "I don't know... is there a position for him here you could offer him? I know he isn't able to be a teacher at a young age, but... something so he can be with Sam. Maybe he can find something in town. I don't know. It's not like I am planning on dying. But I know it can happen all too well."

"John, you're all the boys have left. You make damn sure nothing happens to you." Dylan said. "I'm not sure they'll survive it if something does. You're their reality."

"Trust me." He said. "I have no intention of dying any time soon." He said. It was truth. He wasn't going anywhere. He hated himself as much as anyone who had ever leveled a gun at him. Sometimes in those situations, he found himself pushing, almost hoping they would pull the trigger. It was ironic that his actions tended to make them back off more than anything else. He would love nothing more than to lay down and die. But he didn't think he deserved the peace that would come with it.

"Good." Dylan said. "Remember when we were about to graduate? We didn't think we'd make it past twenty five. What with the war and everything."

"I know. I wasn't sure I was going to make it to 19, but you couldn't have kept me out of the war. I was patriot to the core, and completely clueless." He said with a low rumbling chuckle.

"We all were." Dylan agreed. "It was a whole different world over there." He shook off those thoughts. "But the reunion should be fun, right?"

"I think so. It'll be good to see them all again. Make us all feel our age, I think." John didn't feel old, merely tired. Very tired. So easy to lay down and just let the- no... no... that was the ghost talking. Or so he told himself.

"I'm starting to feel it in the morning, that's enough for me." Dylan said with a chuckle. "I'm telling you, this getting old thing? It's for the birds."

"It's certainly not for the faint of heart." He said. He, too, had trouble in the morning, or when it got cold, or when the weather changed anywhere within a hundred miles of him it seemed. But that wasn't old age, that was hard living. John had been battering his body all his life. The farm, the academy, the war, now the hunt for the demon. One thing John Winchester was not, was faint of heart.

"No, it's not." Dylan said as he rose from his chair. "I'm going to check in on how the rest of my school is running. You find anything, anything I can help with, you let me know."