I sat bouncing my foot up and down. In the middle of the small town we had resided in Sam had managed to find a small diner that looked as if it sold decent food. The boys sat next to each other, leaving me the empty bench. They dug into plates heaped with food while I sat pushing around eggs and fruit.

"You should eat up." Dean managed between chews.

Sam looked over at me, "You're going to need your strength."

"I don't need you telling me what to do." I jabbed my fork into a slice of watermelon and crammed it into my mouth, chewing vigorously.

"I get the feeling you don't like us very much." Sam held my gaze. "Why is that?"

I looked back at my plate and twirled the eggs around in the spatter of ketchup. "I don't trust anyone."

"Well you can trust us." Sam reached across to touch my hand and I quickly pulled away sitting up right.

"Just for this hunt," I let my gaze flick between the two of them. "and then I'm going off on my own again."

"To hunt your demon." Dean huffed pushing his finished plate away from him and downing his coffee.

"Yeah." I glared at him and then began to eat the mess of scrambled eggs in front of me. "Do you think we could hurry this up."

Hunting a ghost usually took everything I had. An undercover identity, or five, and an easy-going smile. The back of my car was loaded with salt and everything needed to burn a set of bones. After a few days of undercover work I usually had things wrapped up very nicely. With this case however, the ghost in question was hunting and preying on little children, almost impossible to tell when the next attack would occur or who the attacker might possibly be.

In my head I was mentally thanking god for sending Dean and Sam my way, however as we sat outside in Deans Black Chevy I still had my arms crossed and refused to let on that I needed their help. The idea of having anyone help me seemed completely absurd. "So are you ready?"

Sam leaned over the passenger seat to look back at me. I smiled my half-smile, "I love a good hunt."

We spent the majority of the morning casing houses. We went to houses of earlier victims, small children. Pained heart after pained heart. Parents mourning the lose of their little ones, and I wondered to myself how anyone, dead or alive could create such pain.

"Hello?" The small women poked her head out from the doorway. She was short, with deep grey eyes, and short curly red hair.

"Are you Ms. Campbell?" The women's eyes showed confusion, but I already knew it was her. Inside I could hear the sound of kids laughing in the hall ways. Our investigation had brought us to a small orphanage in the middle of town.

"Yes," Her answer was slow and reluctant. "May I ask whose asking?"

"My name is dean, this is Sam and Mitch, were investigating the children murders." Dean flashed a fake badge and continued on in his questioning. "We were wondering if we could speak with you."

"I'm sorry, but It's not really a good time."

She made to close the door but dean caught it and gave her that sweet boyish smile of his, "I'll only take a minute."

"Please." Sam added. Her gaze landed on my own and I gave her a coy smile.

"It would really help with our investigation of these deaths." I pushed my way forward, shoving the boys back. "I took a special interest in this case. I was a child of the state for as long as I can remember."

The women's expression changed to that of sympathy and she reluctantly ushered us in. The place was small and run down, very quaint. The long hallway was lined with closed doors, I fell back to investigate, letting the boys question the women. It was oddly quite now, no more laughter or running. I pushed open each door to peak in, one after the other. A living room, a small dinning room, a play room, and a bedroom. No kids. I looked up the staircase and saw a small flash of movement on the upper landing.

"Hello?" I called as I walked up the steps. No one was in the halls, just another hallway lined with doors. "Is anyone up here?"

I pushed one of the doors, opening towards a bathroom. "I'm not going to hurt you."

A door down the hall creaked open and I inched forward. "My name's Michelle."

The door opened a little more, reveling a small girl with blue eyes and short choppy brown hair. She held a bunny in her arms, and couldn't have been more than six. "I'm here to find out what happened to Ginger."

"She got hurt." The little girl whispered. I crouched down outside the door.

"Can I come in?" She gave a little smile.

"Can we play?"

"Of course." I let loose a grin and she pulled the door open, taking a hold of my hand and leading me in. Once inside I noticed the beds lined against the walls. There must have been ten of them, five on each side. Each with a girl sitting on it. "My names Michelle. Where any of you friends with Ginger?"