~*****~
November 1997

"That kids dead." Dean growls.

"Dean," Sam sighed.

"I'm gonna rip his lungs out!" Dean retorts, as if he hadn't heard Sam.

"It's not a big deal." Sam retorted.

"Not a big deal? Sammy, look at yourself. If dad was here--" Dean tried, but Sam cut him off.

"He's not." Sam retorted plainly.

"Well, I am!" Dean snapped. "And as soon as I'm finished with that dick--"

"Just shut up, okay?" Sam snapped back. "I don't need your help."

"That's right, you don't. You could have torn him apart." Dean retorts. "Why didn't you?"

"How would that help him, Dean?" I ask irritably. "Okay, Sam takes down a huge bully. What does that make him?" Sam gestures to me. "I get it, Dean, I really do. Sam should've stood up for himself, but it's a new school, and Sam finally has a friend. What's going to happen if he decides to take this dick down, huh? He'll be labeled a freak because he knows how to fight better than anyone in this school."

"She gets it." Sam grunts. "I just want to be normal."

"So, taking a beating-- that's normal?" Dean asks.

I sigh loudly and rub at my head. "Any word from John?" I ask irritably.

Dean sighs and tugs out his phone. "Called this morning. Said he's going to be another week at least. We weren't supposed to be here this long."

"At least you got Amanda." Sam hums. "She's cool."

Dean blows out a freaked breath. "Dude, she wants me to meet her parents. I don't do parents."

I snort and begin to cackle. "At least your attracted to her. That beefed up jock keeps following me as if I'm into him. Honestly, I'm starting to get a little peeved."

"Who?" Dean asks.

I snort and wave him off. "No way am I telling you jack shit." I retort playfully. "No, the last time some dude showed any interest, you ran him off before I could decide that I liked him back."

Dean snorted. "You never like those idiots, why bother?"

I shrug. "If you get to make your way through the cheerleaders of this school, can't I make my way through the jocks of this school?"

"What?" Dean sputtered.

"I'm gonna go..." Sam chuckled.

I snort and ruffle his hair. "Don't get into to much trouble, Sammy~" I coo and press a kiss to his head.

~*****~
Present

I gazed up at the school skeptically. "We came back here so you could talk to a teacher?" Dean asks.

Sam heaves out a sigh. "He's a good guy." Sam says.

Dean shrugs. "Well, whatever. Go have your Robin Williams, O Captain! My Captain! moment. Just make it quick."

Sam rolled his eyes and got out of the Impala. "Don't be such a jerk, Dean." I mention irritably.

"What? I'm tired, the baby's fussy, you're surviving on three cups of coffee from the last two minutes." Dean mentioned.

I rolled my eyes at him and quickly slapped at his chest. "Sam, oh my god--" I shout as he gets in, nursing a stab wound on his shoulder. We move to a secure location. "Here, this will help." I mention as I hand him my last bottle of brandy.

"That ghost is dead. I'm gonna rip it's lungs out." Dean growls as I prod and poke at the wound, trying to close it up as best I can. We glanced up at him. "Well, you know what I mean."

"It knew my name, guys." Sam sighs. "My real name. We burned Barry's bones. What the hell?"

"Maybe it wasn't Barry. Maybe we missed something." I huff as my fingers begin glowing against Sam's skin. The wound sizzles and begins to close up. "We just gotta go back." He leafs through the files until he grunts irritably. "No way. How did we not see this before?"

"What?" Sam asks.

"Check it out. Look, Martha Dumptruck, Revenge of the Nerds, and Hello Kitty--" Dean points. "They all rode the same bus."

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

"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." Dean snaps.

"I dunno, Dean, there's lore about spirits possessing people and riding them for miles." I explain. "Then, whenever they leave the body, they're bungeed back to their usual haunt. But until then, the ghosts can go wherever they want."

"So a spook just grabs a kid on the bus and walks right into Truman?" Dean asks.

"It's possible." Sam shrugs.

Dean wipes his face irritably. "Ghosts getting creative-- well, that's super." He fishes out a bottle of beer and tosses to me as I pull my hands from Sam.

We search each bus until we find one with EMF. "Definitely ain't clean." I mention as I scrunch my nose up.

"Here, Ghosty, Ghosty, Ghosty!" Dean calls. He bangs his shot gun on the roof. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

"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." Sam mentions.

"Yeah, but a flap of skin, a hair, I mean, hell, a hangnail, something's gotta be tying this ghost to this place." Dean retorts. "We just got to find it."

"Yeah..." Sam sighs.

I sit at the drivers seat and begin leafing through the paperwork. "We got a new driving permit." I mention as I read over it. "Issued two weeks ago."

"Just before the first attack." Sam hums as he and Dean sit on the seats behind me.

"Yeah..." I say softly. "Name of the bus driver is Dirk McGregor Sr. 39 North Central Avenue."

"McGregor?" Sam repeats. I nod in response. "I knew his son."

"Okay, did you know everybody at this school?" Dean asks irritably.

"Hold on, that snotty little brat that picked on you?" I ask.

Sam nods after a moment.

~*****~

"So, you were friends with Dirk?" Mr. McGregor asked.

"Yes sir, in high school." Sam nods.

"I don't recall Dirk having many friends at Truman." Mr. McGregor hummed. "Here, sit down." He gestures to the couch.

"When did, uh-- when did Dirk pass?" Dean asks.

"He was eighteen." Mr. McGregor sighed.

"What happened to him?" Sam asked.

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

"What kind of troubles?" Dean asks.

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

"They picked on him?" Sam asked.

Mr. McGregor nodded. "They called him poor and dirty and stupid. They even had a nickname for him-- Dirk the Jerk. After what happened to his mother, he--"

"His mother?" Sam asked.

"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. Horrible things."

"I didn't know about his mother." Sam says softly.

"He-- he wouldn't talk about her, not even to me." Mr. McGregor chuckles. "A lot of anger in that boy."

"I'm sorry." Sam finally says.

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

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

"All of him?" Dean asks.

Sam and I quickly glanced at Dean in pure irritation. But, turns out, it was a valid question. "Well, I kept a lock of his hair." Mr. McGregor commented.

"Oh, that's-- that's nice." Dean nods. "Where do you keep that?"

Mr. McGregor looked sick now. "On my bus, in my bible." He explains.

~*****~

When the bus finally skidded to a halt, we hurried towards it. "Dirk!" Sam snapped as he rounded the corner. I stepped out after him, my gun pointed at the old man.

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

"Don't need to." Sam hummed before Dean loops the rope around Dirk. "That rope is soaked in salt water, Dirk. You're not going anywhere."

I leapt onto the bus. "Everyone stay where you are, you'll be okay!" Dean shouts as I rifle through the papers.

"Aren't you two the P.E. teachers?" The coach asks.

"Not really. We're like Twenty-One Jumpstreet." Dean retorts. "The bus driver sells pot."

"Dean, it's not here." I snap.

"What?" Dean leans out of the bus. "It's not here!"

"Where is it?" Sam asks.

"No way you'll ever find it." Dirk beams.

"Where is it!" Sam snaps as he shoves him up against the bus.

"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?" Dirk asks. "Now you evil sons of bitches are gonna get what's coming to you."

"I'm not evil, Dirk." Sam retorts. "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." Dirk growled. "Not ever."

Dirk breaks through the ropes, causing Sam to fire. We gaze at the old man before Sam is tackled from behind. "Get the hair!" I shout at Dean as I fire off salt rounds at the jock beating on Sam. I toss the gun to the side and grasp onto his jacket, tugging as hard as I can. There's subtle ripping noises echoing out before I tumble backwards, the jacket torn in two.

"This isn't what it looks like pal," Dean grunts as he starts sifting through the old man's clothes. He finally tugs out a lock of brown hair and torches it. The jock screams before slumping forward, crushing Sam with his dead weight.

"Little help?" Sam grunts through his teeth, sucking in oxygen hurriedly.

Dean grunted. "Ew... He's giving you the full cowgirl." Dean commented.

"I mean, you gotta be suffering there, buddy," I huff. "That guy ain't exactly light." I wave around the jacket I ripped before laying on the ground. "Give us a moment."

Sam grunts loudly.

~*****~
December 1997

"Why do you look so upset?" I ask irritably. "You're the one who decided to hook up with two of the most popular girls in the school, right?" Dean just grunts as I twirl a pencil around. Sam beams as he exits the building to meet us.

"God, I can't wait to get out of here, this place sucks." Dean scoffs. I flinch upright as I hear that familiar purr of the Impala and get up to meet John. "C'mon, Sam!" Dean urges.

"Thank god, John, this place blows." I mention irritably as I press a kiss to his cheek. "Shot gun!"

"Hey, no, no, no--" Dean yelped. I laugh as I squeeze into the front with John and gaze back at Truman. I catch sight of the boy in the window staring at me with a sad expression before waving at him as the car pulls away. I didn't really think much of him, but he was sweet in the end. Maybe I could've liked him if we'd stayed a little longer. I chew on my pencil and start doodling again.