Dean had driven us to a road off by a bridge, the Impala parked up as I was currently leaning against the back of the car, my eyes on Sam who was reading away. Dean had crouched down and opened the cooler box, receiving a big bottle of whisky, before turning around to face his brother.

"Trust me. This will help," Dean spoke, holding out the bottle of cold whisky to Sam. Sam took it, and gently placed it between his legs, pushing it slowly back onto his crotch. His groans slightly as the cold was keeping the pain away. "That Ghost is dead. I'm gonna rip its lungs out!" Dean was clearly angry as his voice raised at the end of his threat. He was pissed that a Ghost hurt his little brother. A natural reaction, but I looked at him with a 'really' look. "Well, you know what I mean," he turns back around, and faces me.

"Let's find out who he is first, Rambo," I remarked with a snide expression. At times Dean could be hot-headed, and it never did anyone any good.

"It knew my name, Dean. My real name," Sam announces, but Dean was busy reading the file he had in his hands, as he parked himself to the right of me, leaning against the back end of his car. "We burned Barry's bones. What the hell?" Sam was confused, because if it wasn't Barry then who could it be.

"Well, maybe it wasn't Barry. Maybe we missed something. We just got to go back," Dean responded, lifting up a sheet of paper within the file to look at the next page. My eyes glanced over to the file, and noticed something straight away. I took charge, and grabbed the piece of paper Dean was holding and flipped it back down to prove my theory.

"Think you need to get your eyes tested boys," I announce, as their eyes were on me, Dean clearly caught what I had.

"No way. How did we not see this before?" Dean announces, clearly disappointed in himself that he didn't clock it earlier. His eyes met with mine, I could tell he wanted to take this one, and tell his brother about it.

"Still your case. I'm just on for the ride," I spoke before leaning back fully on the Impala.

"What?" Sam questioned, wanting to know what Dean had found.

"Check it out," Dean stepped forward, standing in front of his brother who was sitting on an ice box. Dean handed over the file to Sam. "Look, Martha Dumptruck, revenge of the nerds, and hello kitty -- they all rode the same bus," Dean pointed onto the paper Sam was looking at.

"Ok, so maybe the bus is haunted,"

"Well, that would explain why there's no EMF at the school, but not the attacks," Dean shoved his hands into his pockets and came back over to lean against the Impala. "I mean, Ghosts are tied to the places that they haunt, they can't just bail," Dean read up on the lore, maybe not all of it, but he knew enough that Ghosts are tied to places where they died.

"Unless this one can," Sam spoke. "Dean, there's lore about spirits possessing people and riding them for miles. Then whenever they leave the body, they're bungeed back to their usual haunt. But until then, the Ghosts can go wherever they want," Sam explained, and he was right. I hate to admit it to myself, but he was.

"So, a spook just grabs a kid on the bus, and walks right into Truman?" Dean wasn't convinced that it could happen.

"Possible," I announced from the side.

"Ghosts getting creative -- Well, that's super," Dean remarks, before bending down and grabbing a bottle from the cooler, and twisting it open.

"You guys are something else," I announced, quickly grabbing the bottle from his hand, the glass rapidly cooling my hand. "Going to be a long day," I raised the bottle to my lips and began to chug down the beer with ease. It was a big bottle Sam had placed between his legs. After a moment, I released the suction from my lips and handed the bottle back to Dean - who looked at me with amazement. Downing half of the bottle without needing to breath nor stop.

"Would you like more?" Dean was snide in that question, making me roll my eyes at him, and shoving the bottle into his chest.

"No, I need something more... Stiffer," I flashed my eyebrows up at him, bitting at my lower lip to insinuate something sexual. "Poor Sam can't get it up right now," I cocked my head over to Sam, offering a smug smirk. "I'll be in the car," I pushed myself off the back, and swayed my hips around, and got into the passenger side, meaning I had to go around Dean. I felt their eyes on me, like they should. Teasing them was far too easy...

...................................

The school buses were lined up, and we found the one that was being used by all three kids. It was a standard yellow bus, nothing special about it. Besides, it was being haunted by a Ghost now.

"Definitely ain't clean," Sam said, the EMF reading was off the charts. I was in front of the boys, looking to see if we could find anything that could help us.

"Here ghosty, ghosty, ghosty!" Dean raised his voice, hitting the tip of the shotgun he was holding onto the ceiling of the bus, trying to provoke the ghost. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Dean was being slightly childish.

"Bang some more, maybe you'll piss him off. Or wait, you're just pissing me off," my headshot over my shoulder, my eyes narrowing into Dean. Dean narrowed his own eyes, before he continued to look for anything.

"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 couldn't wrap his head around the Ghost being tied here, it didn't make sense to him right now.

"Yeah, but a flap of skin, a hair, I mean, hell, a hangnail. Something's got to be tying the ghost to this place. We just got to find it," Dean announces, he was head strong in this, and didn't want to give up, because he was that type of person. He didn't want to see anyone else die because of this Ghost.

I turned back around, and searched a bit more at the back of the bus, but I was finding nothing helpful. Maybe some loose gum, and some dirty words on the back of the seats, but nothing definitive.

"Got a new driving permit," Dean's voice echoed down the bus, making me turn around and walk back down, seeing Sam do the same. "Issued two weeks ago," Dean spoke, eyeing up the permit in his hand.

"Just before the first attack," Sam recalled, as he crouched down, and sat on the ground of the bus.

"Yeah. Name of the bus driver is Dirk McGregor Senior. Thirty-Nine Central Avenue," Dean spoke the guy's name and his home address by the time I had reached the front of the bus.

"McGregor?" Sam sounded surprised with the last name, his expression clear as day he knew someone with that name.

"Yeah... Why?" Dean questioned.

"I knew his son," Sam responded.

"Did you know everybody at this school?" Dean took the words right from my mouth.

"I thought you were the popular one Dean, but I guess not," I joked with him, my eyes casting between the boys. "You two go see the Dad, and I'll find out as much as I can," I gave the order, not giving them time to speak, as I squeezed myself through the gap between Sam and Dean. I came down the metal steps and back onto solid ground. But I wasn't going to find out what I could.

Time passed, night had descended upon the Earth. I waited for what was to come, and that was the death of Dirk. Maybe I did some light reading on the kid, finding out so many things. He was troubled, that was for sure. I arrived at the scene, Dean and Sam were already there and had the Ghost wrapped in salt water. I could sense Dirk within. I, of course, was invisible to everyone. They did text me to meet them, but I did not reply.

"Where is it?!" Sam was angry and pushed Dirk who was in possession of some janitor to the side of 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?" He gave a small speech, how life was unfair to him, how he was mistreated. Boo-hoo, grow up. "Now you evil sons of bitches are gonna get what's coming to you," he was angry.

"I'm not evil, Dirk," Sam said, lowering his hand from his chest. "I'm not," the words had hit Sam deep. "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," Sam speech was oscar worthy, but I wanted to kill myself right now.

"Nothing is gonna get better for me. Not ever," he yells, and my eyes drifted down to the rope that held him. A smirk came to my lips, as I sliced my fingers upwards into the air, making the rope break, freeing him from the capture. Once free he stalked forward, but Sam shot at him twice, rocksalts - sadly. Though Dirk only jumped into the next body, which was inside the bus.

Out of nowhere, a jock came running at Sam, knocking him to the ground, dropping the shotgun, and spun him on his back. Dean reacted quickly, grabbing the shotgun and fired twice at the boy, but his will was strong and he didn't want to be forced out of the possession. He was whaling on Sam, punches left and right, the sweet noise echoing in my ears.

"Dean! Find the hair!" Sam yells, allowing him the brief time to speak to his brother. Before, the punches flowed, and his head followed with each strike. It was entertaining to watch a fight. I walked on over, viewing the fight from the front for me, but behind for Sam. With each strike to the face, something within wanted me to stop him from hurting Sam. I was inches from Sam, and I crouched to the level of Dirk, and held out my right hand, my fingers spread, and Dirk just stopped mid-punch, froze. Sam was also forced down, I couldn't make his escape that easy. Dirk's eyes raised up to meet mine.

"Bitch!" He roars through clenched teeth. "Let me finish this," he wanted to kill Sam, and I was stopping that. I was conflicted with myself, I ordered him to kill the Winchesters, and seeing it happen, I wanted to stop it.

"There's going to be a special place down in Hell for you," I said sweetly, only he could perceive and hear me. "I was just buying time," I noticed out of the corner of my eye a piece of hair falling out of the shoe of the first possession victim. I lowered my hand and he regained movement before whaling on Sam again, wanting to kill him.

"We had a deal!" He yells, but he continues to strike Sam across the face. With a final strike, he stops and arches his back, backwards and screams. Suddenly, Dirk's ghost was expelled from the boy and evaporated into fire, sending him where he belongs.

The boys solved it, but what have I gotten myself into? They undoubtedly heard what Dirk had said, that he had a deal with someone who wanted him to do this. But was I doing this to get caught, to stop this charade for being good and a Hunter.

Time will only tell...

**************
A/N

The next chapter or two will be flashbacks! Which I cannot wait for! I'm feeling I should carry on from her Mother's death, and show what happened next! But comment an idea on what you think Abigael should do? Or what you want to see over the long life she's had! :)