CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR:
MEANT TO BE YOURS.

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1996

JOHN WINCHESTER COULD easily sense that Birdie wasn't thrilled to be in a car with him behind the wheel. For as long as he'd known the young girl, he always got the sense that she didn't particularly like him. He had no clue what he did for her to dislike him so much considering they'd seen each other only a handful of times over the years, but he didn't really care. It wasn't his job to be liked, especially by a child that wasn't even his. However, as Birdie got older and she became more mouthier——usually whenever Serena wasn't around——John couldn't help but give it right back to her. Dean did his best to try and diffuse their fights or stop them before they even turned into one because he knew how his dad might react, but it didn't always work out the way he'd hoped. Sam did the same, but truthfully, John was always more likely to listen to Dean than Sam due to the fact Dean always did as John asked; not that he actually listened to Dean that much, though.

Birdie reminded John of Serena in many ways, but also Reese in the way she spoke with Sam and Dean——after they all became friends, of course. He could tell that she wasn't a malicious person like many would have described the girl's mother, but kind and friendly like her father; albeit a little awkward and strange, too. And yet, John and Birdie hardly got along if they had to be around each other for more than a few hours. So, when Serena suggested she and Reese would get a head start west while John dropped the kids off at school, John and Birdie had been quick to protest. But alas, he somehow wound up with Dean in the passenger seat and Sam and Birdie in the back of his Impala with Serena and Reese headed for their next case.

Birdie's frown deepened as John pulled up closer to the schools, easing up next to the sidewalk so the three would be able to climb out when they were close enough. The school was to the left of them, high schoolers, middle schoolers, and staff piled inside the large building as it neared the start of the first period, most of the older students entering through one side while the younger ones entered through another.

"Stop your poutin' back there. You'll be outta here and back with your parents before you know it."

"You don't know that," Birdie grumbled.

John lifted his head, stealing a look at the girl through the rear view mirror. "What was that?"

"It's nothing. She's fine, Dad," Dean said.

"I said you don't know that," Birdie repeated, making sure John could clearly hear her this time.

"Birdie——"

"Dean, don't," John firmly said. "Now Birdie, don't you start this. You're not gonna win." Birdie sharply narrowed her eyes, but she didn't respond. Sam briefly glanced over at the girl, watching her roll her eyes and turn her head towards the window. Dean stole a look in the passenger side mirror, noticing the prominent scowl on Birdie's lips. John pulled up further, his eyes skimming over the students milling around the main entrance as they waited as long as possible to go inside. "That's what I thought."

"That's a first."

John sharply turned his head, dark eyes narrowing in on Birdie. "I've had just about enough of your damn attitude this morning, Birdie. I didn't have to bring you——"

"I didn't even want you to——"

"Birdie, Dean, come on. We're gonna be late," Sam said, pushing open his door. Dean did the same, wanting to get out of the car before Birdie and John could continue bickering. Birdie returned John's glare, but her door was opened and Dean reached inside to tug her out of the car. She huffed but climbed out, walking around the back of the Impala to meet Sam on the sidewalk.

They walked a few steps forward and Dean glanced over his shoulder to look back at his father. "Thanks, Dad."

Birdie didn't look back, a small frown still etched on her lips as she quietly walked beside Sam. Dean looked aside, his eyes flickering between Sam and Birdie. He fought the urge to comment on Birdie's interaction with John, knowing it'd only make her more pissed off and he didn't want or need that on their first day. "You guys got your lunches?" Dean asked. "Books? Butterfly knife?"

"Yeah, Dean," Sam softly said. Birdie just simply nodded in response.

Dean slowed down, furrowing his brows at Sam's tone. Birdie did the same, her curious gaze landing on Sam as well. "You okay?"

"Sure."

"Sammy. . ."

Sam heavily sighed, shaking his head. "I mean, look, this is the third school we've been to this year, and it's only November. I'm just sick of always being the new kid."

"You'll be fine, both of you will," Dean said, giving Sam and Birdie a small smile in an attempt to reassure them. "If anyone gives you guys any trouble, you let me know." Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Relax, Sam. Reese said this hunt will take them two weeks, tops. As soon as they get back, we're outta here."

"To another school," Sam said. "Awesome."

Birdie looked up at Dean, giving him a faint smile. "Has anyone ever told you that you know how to give a great pep talk?"

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. Then he reached out, gently nudging her to start walking towards the school. "Shut up, Big Bird."

Birdie snickered under her breath and adjusted the straps of her book bag, her dark eyes skimming the students in front of her for any sign of Sam. She slipped inside the school with Dean right behind her, frowning when she didn't spot Sam. Dean stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder to make her look back at him. "In here," he said, nudging his head to their right. Birdie turned her head and saw the main office where Sam was already waiting for Sam and Birdie.

Birdie quickly walked forward with Dean, letting out a tired sigh as they slipped inside the bland office. Dean stepped around Birdie to stand in front of the front desk, giving the woman at the desk a bright and perky smile while Sam and Birdie quietly lingered behind him. "Can I help you kids?" the woman asked, skeptically eying the three as if she suspected they were up to something.

"Uh, yeah. We're starting here today and we need our schedules."

"Oh, okay. What are your names?" the woman asked, her tone a bit more perky at the fact they weren't some students trying to get out of class or stir up trouble first thing in the morning.

"Sam and Dean Winchester, and Birdie Fowler," Dean answered.

The woman hummed in response and clicked a few buttons on her keyboard. Her brows furrowed and unfurrowed, causing Dean's to do the same. The receptionist didn't say anything but clicked a few more tabs as she searched for all three of their schedules. The printer behind her started to whir with life, three pages coming out afterwards. Then she stood up and grabbed the papers, glancing at the names at the top as she walked back over to the trio. "Okay, and Dean?" she presumed, looking at Dean. He smiled and nodded. The receptionist smiled as well and handed him his schedule. "Sam?" Sam stepped closer and the woman handed him his schedule. "Birdie, right?" Birdie nodded, too.

Birdie accepted the schedule, eyes skimming over the classes to have an idea of what kind of classes she would be taking while she was there. Her gaze flickered to the top of the page, doing a double take when it said she was in eighth grade. "But I'm n——"

"Here are some maps of the schools that should help you kids find your way to your classes. But, if you have any trouble, feel free to ask one of the teachers or pop back into either of our main offices and we'll help you." Dean accepted the maps and handed the other two to Sam and Birdie. The receptionist sat back down in front of her computer, examining the screen in front of her one last time. "Now it looks like all three of you start with English this morning, and Sam and Birdie, I believe you two have the same one. . .in fact, I think you have the exact same classes. How odd. . ." Birdie stole a look over at Sam, catching his eye. Dean curiously leaned over and looked at both of their schedules, snickering when he saw the receptionist was right. "But oh well. You kids should go on ahead and find your classes. There's only five minutes left until the final bell rings and it might be better to get there early."

Dean nodded and nudged his head towards the door as he glanced at Sam and Birdie. Birdie pursed her lips but followed the oldest Winchester, Sam behind her as they slipped out of the office. "How the hell did we end up in the same classes?" Birdie asked once they were out of earshot of the receptionist, focusing her attention on Sam. "I'm in seventh, not eighth."

"Who the hell cares?" Dean nonchalantly shrugged, carelessly stuffing his schedule in his jacket pocket. More students drifted past them, already knowing the way to their classes. Less and less students were in the halls with less than five minutes left before school officially began. "You're not gonna be here long enough for your grades to get affected, anyways."

Birdie sighed, nodding her head. "Yeah, hopefully."

"You guys know where you're headed?" Dean asked.

"I think so," Sam answered, looking up from the map he had in his hands. He turned his head, offering Birdie a small smile.

She returned it and she took a few steps to the side, taking another look at Dean. "See ya later, Dean."

"See ya. You guys kick some ass if you have to," he said, snickering to himself as Sam and Birdie headed down the hallway, disappearing around a corner to head towards their side of the school. Truman High and Truman Middle School were combined into one giant building to keep the students separated, but there were a few hallways that were used for both high schoolers and middle schoolers which some students didn't always enjoy. But, thankfully Sam figured out which way they needed to go to find their English Studies class.

Birdie folded up her schedule after checking the room number of their English class and stuffed it in one of the side pockets of her backpack. "How do you think we ended up in all the same classes?" she wondered.

"Maybe your dad?" Sam suggested, scrunching up his face.

"My dad?" Birdie repeated. "But how?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders, eyes skimming over the numbers above the classrooms they were passing. They could only see a few more students loitering in the hallways, most likely the ones that didn't actually care if they were late or not. The numbers were starting to get closer to the one for their English class. "I don't know. Maybe. . .maybe he felt bad and wanted to make sure you weren't. . .by yourself?"

Birdie furrowed her brows in thought. She remembered that her father told her that school wouldn't be so bad, but she didn't believe him.

But, maybe he would be right this time.

The final bell rang and Birdie raised her brows, stealing a look at Sam. They hadn't reached their class yet, but they would most likely get a free pass for being late seeing that it was their first day there. If there teacher did actually mind that they were late——well, Birdie didn't care if they liked it or not. There wasn't much she or Sam could do to fix it.

"This is it," Sam softly said, slowly coming to a stop in front of a door. Birdie did the same, sighing to herself as she mentally prepared herself. Beginning at another school was always a nerve wracking experience. It typically didn't take Birdie very long to gauge what the students and the teachers were like, figuring out who were the bullies, the popular kids, the jocks, and the teachers who did and didn't actually care about the students. In Birdie's experience, almost every school had been a complete and utter disappointment to her. But, she didn't feel as anxious as she normally would have since she had Sam beside her this time.

Sam stepped forward and opened the door, holding it open for Birdie to enter first. The teacher, Mr. Wyatt, as it said his name was on their schedules, turned his head at the sound of the door opening. He stood up straight when his gaze fell on Sam and Birdie, a smile spreading across his lips.

"Welcome! You must be our new students," the teacher said, beckoning them to come closer. Birdie pursed her lips as she stepped over to the teacher along with Sam, feeling all sets of eyes pinned on her. "Ladies and gentlemen, please say hello to Sam Winchester and Birdie Fowler."

"Hi," the class droned on in sync, not exactly prepared to be very preppy and friendly so early in the morning. A few girls smiled towards Sam, but he didn't pay any attention to them. His focus was on the ground, obviously uncomfortable. Being the child of a hunter, being introduced as the new kid was nothing new to Sam or Birdie. All eyes were always on them when they had to stand at the front of the classroom on their first day, no doubt the rest of the class examining them and trying to figure out if they wanted to befriend the new kid; in Birdie's case, that rarely ever happened.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell us about yourselves?" Mr. Wyatt wondered, glancing between Sam and Birdie.

Sam shook his head. "Not really."

"Uh, no. . ." Birdie said, shaking her head as well.

"Okay. Uh, grab a seat," Mr. Wyatt said, gesturing towards two empty seats near the back of the room.

Sam and Birdie silently glanced at each other, making their way down the narrow aisles. Thankfully, the empty seats were in the same row so they were still close together. Birdie sighed and let her bag slip down her shoulder as she chose the seat closest to the back. She glanced over at Sam, her eyes widening when she saw his butterfly knife had fallen out of his bag and landed on his seat. He quickly picked it up, but not before the boy on his left spotted it. Birdie sat down in her seat, heart racing as she expected the boy to quickly tattle on Sam for bringing a weapon into school, but much to her surprise the boy seemed. . .impressed?

"Whoa, that's yours?" the boy asked. "Awesome!"

Birdie suspiciously narrowed her eyes at the boy, but she didn't speak out of fear of attracting even more unwanted attention on her or Sam. The boy turned his attention back with a small smile and Birdie did the same, sighing in relief. She curiously tilted her head as she peered around Sam's head, spotting The Outsiders was written on the chalkboard behind Mr. Wyatts' desk. On the other side "Trial of Johnny Cade" was written above three columns: Lawyers, Witnesses, and Jury. Birdie leaned back in her seat as Mr. Wyatt rummaged through some papers on his desk, vividly remembering what the book was about. She'd read it just a few months ago, and to her surprise, she'd actually enjoyed it.

"All right, gang," Mr. Wyatt said, "Essay assignment." The class whined in sync, clearly not happy with the assignment. Mr. Wyatt only smiled. "Yeah, yeah, my heart breaks for you."

Mr. Wyatt turned to face the chalkboard, erasing the "Trial of Johnny Cade" section so he could write the essay requirements there instead. Sam glanced aside, unintentionally locking eyes with the boy beside him. "Hey. . .I'm Barry," the boy whispered.

"Sam," Sam said.

"Okay, now, I want three pages of your most memorable family experience." Birdie immediately grimaced as soon as she heard those words. Her most memorable family experience? She had plenty of those, but if she wrote three pages on the first ones that popped into her head, Mr. Wyatt would certainly notify the authorities for child endangerment. "Just a reminder though, this is going to be worth half your final grade. . ."

Birdie's frown remained on her lips as glanced aside when she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. She was going to look away, but her lips parted when she saw the boy behind Barry's seat start to flick the back of Barry's ear; Birdie wasn't the only one who noticed either.

"Leave him alone," Sam said.

"Shh," the boy shushed Sam. "I'm goin' for a record."

". . .I don't care what you write about, or even how you write about it. I'm looking for the brutal, funny, maybe even painful, truth. . ."

"I said leave him alone."

The boy stopped, slowly lowering his hand. Barry let out a shaky breath, looking at Sam with surprise. No one had ever stood up for him. "You want to take his place. . .midget?" the boy sneered.

Birdie hatefully narrowed her eyes, gaze darting to Sam with anticipation. He shifted in his seat, keeping his eyes locked with the bully as a small smirk appeared on his lips. "Yeah. Sure."

The other boys' own smirk faltered at the realization Sam was being completely serious.

". . .but three pages, and it can be double-spaced."

Sam kept his eyes locked with the bully until the other boy scoffed, rolling his eyes. He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms over his chest, a scowl etched on his lips. Barry shot Sam an appreciative smile and Sam silently nodded, facing forward again.

Birdie leaned forward in her own seat so she was closer to Sam so only he would hear her. "Did you catch what the assignment is supposed to be?"

"Yeah, our most memorable family experience," Sam answered with a light scoff. "We got a lot of those, don't we?"

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"I'm gonna fuckin' kill both of you for this."

"What? Why?"

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"Sam got you one of the best gigs here."

Birdie pursed her lips into a fine line, firmly placing her hands on her hips as her dark eyes burned straight into Dean. Sam heavily sighed from beside him, tilting his head as he looked at Birdie. "Bird, it'll only be for a few days at the most," he said. Birdie's expression didn't deter as she turned her glare onto Sam. "Besides, you're still doing something you enjoy."

"You made me a goddamn substitute, Samuel," Birdie snapped. "I'd rather be a janitor, or even a lunch lady——no wait, not a lunch lady. Just——you couldn't have given me somethin' where I don't have to talk to anyone?"

Sam huffed, shaking his head. There was no winning this argument, or whatever it was considered. "Look, I'm sorry, Bird. But we're not gonna be here long. All you gotta do is——"

Sam's lips smacked shut when a few students walked into the classroom, making their way to the large tables spread throughout the spacious room. Birdie's eyes immediately darted back to Sam, huffing in obvious annoyance. Dean snickered when he saw Birdie's expression, shooting her a wink. "Good luck, Bird. I'm gonna change and get ready for gym class. Woo!"

Birdie rolled her eyes in annoyance, shaking her head at the oldest Winchester. Sam twisted his lips, raising his brows as more students began to pile into the room. Birdie let out a shaky breath, locking eyes with Sam. "What the hell am I supposed to do here, Sam?" Birdie whispered, a hint of panic laced within her voice. "I-I can't teach them. I didn't even finish high school!"

"Bird, this is an art class, and you're a sub. You're not supposed to teach them anything. Just. . .improvise. You're good at that."

"No I'm not——"

"Hey, new guy." Birdie and Sam turned their heads at the stern voice, seeing a teacher poking his head into the room with an angered expression. "You don't get paid to flirt with the substitutes. Get to cleaning."

Birdie shakily exhaled, biting back a small smile as Sam took another look at her. "Still wanna be a janitor?" Sam wondered.

"I'll let you know later," Birdie meekly whispered. "If I even make it that long."

Sam chuckled under his breath and turned on his heel, giving Birdie one last smile before he slipped out of the classroom. Birdie puffed out her cheeks, taking a look around the room. There were about fifteen students already in their seats, some curiously eyeing Sam and Birdie while others doodled in the notebooks, talked to their fellow classmates, or played on their phones and Ipods. There were already some art supplies placed in the middle of the tables, but some of the students were pulling out their own to use instead; something Birdie did when she was in school, too.

The classroom, itself, could be described as a piece of artwork. Everywhere you looked, there was something to marvel at as talent from every year since the high school opened was displayed. Even the ceiling was painted in every color imaginable, causing Birdie to stare up as she walked deeper into the classroom while she anxiously waited for the final bell to ring. The next thing she noticed was the strong smell of paint as she passed by the multiple sinks, all stained with paint and clay. Next to the sink, there were a few wire racks with drying paintings and Birdie could see the names of students in each corner. Though, there were a few that were nameless. The back wall was lined with shelves, each holding various art supplies for the students. The room felt crowded, but it was exactly how she imagined an art classroom to be. Even amongst the colorful messes, the students still found something that sparked their imagination.

Birdie sighed and returned to the teachers desk at the front of the classroom, eyes skimming over the teacher's belongings. The usual art teacher, Mr. Anthony Vogel, had to urgently leave after his mother fell ill and needed to fly across the country to take care of her. There were a few knick knacks placed on his desk, a framed photograph beside his computer that Birdie assumed was Mr. Vogel and his mother. She spotted something in the bottom corner of the computer and she leaned down, rolling her eyes when she read what was on it: OUT OF ORDER. I.T. PLEASE FIX ASAP. Yesterday's date was written in the bottom corner of the note, and as Birdie tapped a few keys and nothing happened, she realized it had yet to be fixed. Her eyes flickered to the clock above the chalkboard behind her, realizing there was only three minutes left before school was meant to begin. She scrunched up her nose, shaking her head.

"Are you supposed to be our sub?"

At the question, Birdie lifted her head to see which student spoke. Her eyes skimmed over the students, locking eyes with a red haired girl who was curiously peering at Birdie through the round glasses that were perched on her nose. "Uh, yeah, I-I am," Birdie answered, nodding her head as she spoke.

"What's your name?"

"B——" Birdie paused, remembering a majority of teachers and substitutes didn't go by their first names; not to mention she was technically meant to be dead so using her real name wouldn't be a smart move. She cleared her throat, forcing a small smile on her lips. "I'm Ms. Sawyer."

"What happened to your eye, Ms. Sawyer?" Honestly, Birdie saw the question coming a mile away. Though, she didn't think a student would just outright ask her what happened without a second thought. Then again, they were teenagers——there was no predicting what they would say or do.

"I, uh, I got into a car accident a few months ago," Birdie answered. In a way, she wasn't exactly lying. A car accident didn't cause the scar, but she was in an accident still. The student nodded, seemingly satisfied with Birdie's response.

A student at a table near the back of the room raised their hand. Birdie lifted her head slightly, pointing towards the student as a signal for them to speak. "Where's Mr. Vogel?" he wondered, his brows furrowed together in confusion.

Birdie shifted, leaning against the desk. "Um, I think his mother is pretty sick, so he's taking a few days off to help take care of her."

"Aw, no, not Mrs. Vogel," another student deeply frowned, their eyes swirling with genuine concern. Birdie tilted her head, wondering just how much the students knew of their teachers' personal life. "Is she gonna be okay? What——"

"I don't actually know what happened to her. I'm sorry," Birdie interrupted, offering the student an apologetic smile. "But, for now, I'd like you all to focus on your artwork."

"First we have to do the morning assignment."

Birdie furrowed her brows. "The what?"

"The morning assignment. . .it's the assignment we're supposed to do for the first fifteen minutes, and if we don't finish it, it's homework. Then Mr. Vogel gives us the rest of the class to work on our quarterly project. . .which he would've assigned today since it's the start of a new quarter."

Birdie raised her brows at that, mouth forming into the shape of an 'O'. "Right, uh. . .just give me one second." She quickly moved aside and peered down at Mr. Vogels desk, brows knitted together as she tried to find the substitute guide Mr. Vogel was supposed to leave for her to use in his absence. She rummaged through some of the crinkled up papers, pursing her lips as she only found balled up tardy slips and random paperwork. She heavily sighed, placing her hands on the desk as she looked up at the class.

"This is your first time doin' this, isn't it?" the student who'd asked about her scar wondered.

Birdie softly chuckled. "That obvious, huh?"

"That, and the fact you're wearing jeans and a Led Zeppelin shirt," the red head with the glasses said.

Birdie stood up straight, blinking a few times when she picked up the tone in the student's voice. "What's wrong with that?" she wondered.

"That's not really. . .teacher attire."

"So what, Sarah?" a boy at the end of one of the tables said, a small smile on his lips. "It's better than what Mrs. Chambers wears."

"Anything is better than Mrs. Chambers wears."

Birdie breathed out a quiet laugh, taking another glance at the desk in hopes the guide would magically appear, but still there was nothing. "Um, anyways——"

"Good moooorning, Truman High!" a perky voice suddenly interrupted from the speakers in the ceiling. Birdie jumped, the action making a few of the high schoolers snicker. Birdie huffed and moved towards the desk, taking a seat in the chair. So far, she was still hating her job. Being a janitor definitely sounded more enticing. "How is everyone doing today? Good, I hope! This morning there's just a few things I need to go over so this won't take too long."

"Thank god," one of the students muttered under their breath.

Birdie snickered, eyes skimming over Mr. Vogel's papers. There had to be something there for her to use as a guide. Mr. Vogel knew ahead of time that he was going to be leaving and a substitute would have to fill in for him while he was gone. He didn't just up and leave without leaving behind something to explain what needed to be done in his classes, did he?

"First and foremost, we'd just like to remind everyone about the no bullying policy. If you see or hear something, please grab the first teacher or staff member you can find." Birdie raised a brow at that. They certainly didn't have anything like that when she and the boys went there years ago——the middle school or the high school. "Secondly, all after school activities have been canceled for the rest of the week due to the bus driver shortage. Hopefully, they will be able to resume again sometime next week, but we won't know for sure until then. And, don't forget that the counselor is still available for anyone needing some guidance or to talk about anything——Oh! And instead of today being Taco Tuesday, the board has decided to change it to Tofu Tuesday."

"Tofu?!" one of the students gaped, eyes growing wide in horror. Birdie scrunched up her nose in disgust, glancing up towards the speaker. "What the hell?"

"And lastly, I hope everyone has a wonderful day! Thank you!"

"I hate my freakin' life," the student who'd spoken last scoffed, leaning back in his seat in what appeared to be some form of defeat. Birdie shook her head to herself and stood up with a faint smile, pushing some loose strands of hair out of her face. She stepped around to the front of the desk, waiting until most of the students' eyes had fallen on her again.

These students remind me of you. Birdie huffed, slightly shaking her head as a signal for Felicity to quiet.

"Well, uh, Mr. Vogel didn't leave behind anything that tells me what you guys are supposed to do, or, so uh, for today, we're just gonna skip the morning assignment, or whatever the hell you called it earlier." Birdie's eyes slightly widened, realizing a curse word had managed to slip out. "Um. . ."

"Don't worry, we won't tattle, Ms. Sawyer," one of the students nonchalantly shrugged. "Mr. V cusses all the time, and he lets us——unless the principal or someone comes in."

Birdie suspiciously narrowed her eyes. That didn't sound like something a teacher usually did; not in her experience, anyways. "He lets you?"

"Yeah, he's pretty chill compared to the other teachers here," a black haired girl with olive skin nodded in agreement. "And, he actually sticks up for the students which is pretty rare here. . ."

Birdie hummed, casually leaning against the desk. "Yeah, those kinds of teachers aren't very common," she said, raising her brows for a few seconds. Then she stood up straight again, placing her hands on her hips. "But for now, we're gonna try to focus on art, okay? Uh, what-what was the last project you guys had to do?"

One of the students raised their hand and Birdie nodded for them to speak. "Shouldn't you take attendance first?" he suggested.

"Oh, right," Birdie said. She glanced over her shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief when she saw there was at least a piece of paper with all of the students' names. She stole a look at some of the students in front of her, making sure a few of the pictures matched the faces gazing back at her. Thankfully, they did. "Uh. . . Penelope Adams?"

"Here!"

"Kurt Azzaro?"

"Here."

The names droned on and on for the next couple of minutes, only two students needing to be marked down as absent; now, how to actually inform the school of that in their system since the computer wasn't working. . .Birdie didn't know. But, at least she marked the names down. She reached the last name on the list, furrowing her brows together when she read the last name. "Ezra Zeffer?"

"Here," a boy with shiny black hair and dark brown eyes said, partially raising his hand so Birdie could spot him at the table in the back. "Is. . .is something wrong?"

"Does your fathers name happen to be Jordan?"

Ezra sat up straight, confusion washing over his round features. "Yeah. You know him?"

"We-we went to school together here——but only for a little bit," Birdie answered. Ezra hummed, nodding his head. Birdie wasn't thankful he didn't press for more details. She didn't exactly want to relieve her time at Truman Middle School. So she cleared her throat, folding her arms over her chest. "Now, since I don't have a guide, and the fact that this class is mostly drawing and painting, I'm gonna assume there's at least been some kind of theme with your assignments lately? Such as surrealism, pop art, impression——"

The girl with the glasses raised her hand, giving Birdie a timid smile. Birdie returned it and nodded her head for the girl to speak. "Our last quarter project we had to combine two different art styles and turn it into a nature scene."

"Oh, perfect," Birdie grinned. "Uh, okay, so. . .for your next one——you get the whole quarter to do it, right?" The students nodded and murmured yes's. "So for your next one, you all just have to use three different art styles, and draw your favorite memory, and you can use paint, pencil——whatever your hearts desire."

"Our favorite memory?"

"Yeah," Birdie nonchalantly shrugged. "I don't know what you guys are meant to do, but since Mr. Vogel isn't here, this is just something that's not too complicated, or it's not supposed to be."

A boy near the front with curly red hair raised his hand. "What if our happiest moment isn't. . .what if it's, like, getting an Xbox or something?"

"As long as it's your happiest moment, it'll work," Birdie replied. "But, you all must use the same size paper——" she paused, glancing around the room for anything that appeared to hold multiple stacks of paper for the students to use.

"All the paper's in the back cabinet," Ezra said, gesturing towards the cabinet behind his table.

"Perfect, would you mind grabbing some for everyone and handing them out? Whatever size you think works best."

Ezra nodded and stood up, making his way towards the cabinet. Another student raised her hand——Penelope, perhaps? "Yes?" Birdie asked the girl.

"So that's our assignment? Use three different styles to show our happiest moment?"

"Yeah. Is that. . .is that a problem?" Birdie asked, raising her brows; not in a condescending way, but more in a "oh no, am I doing this even more wrong?" kind of way.

Penelope quickly shook her head no, a smile on her glossy lips. "No, no. I was just making sure. Thank you, Ms. Sawyer."

Birdie nodded in response.

Ezra began to hand out the papers and Birdie moved towards the chair behind the desk, eyes glimpsing over the students. They all seemed to be getting to work once they had the paper, voices meshing together as they passed around some of the supplies from the middle of the tables. Birdie hummed to herself and sank down into Mr. Vogels chair, glancing around for something she could write on. She had no doubt in her mind that the school would be quite curious about its newest substitutes and janitor when they all up and left without warning, and figuring that the school would find out they were in fact not who they said they were, Birdie wasn't too worried about what would happen when Mr. Vogel returned. But, she still wanted to make sure that the students wouldn't get in trouble for not doing what he wanted, so she decided to leave him a little note.

Since you didn't leave a guide, or put it somewhere I could find, I gave the students a simple assignment of my own choosing. So, if everything's all wrong when you get back or they're behind on the curriculum, it's on me, not them, Mr. Vogel. I'm sorry! You sound like a wonderful teacher, though!

Hope your mom's doing well!

Birdie shrugged once she was done with the note and pushed it off to the side where Mr. Vogel would easily find it once he returned. She glanced up when she heard some laughter erupt from the back of the classroom, her gaze falling on Ezra and the girl seated beside him. She watched the girl giggle, her cheeks flushed and a giddy expression on her lips. Ezra had a small smirk on his lips, bright green eyes boring into the girls like he was trying to mesmerize her.

Birdie felt her smile falter, slowly leaning back in the desk chair with her arms folded over her chest.

"You're the new girl, right?"

Birdie turned her head, spotting a boy with dark brown hair and bright green eyes peering down at her. A small grin was etched on his lips, patiently waiting for Birdie's response. She shifted in her seat, faintly nodding her head. "Yeah," she softly answered.

"I'm Jordan," he said, sinking into the seat beside her. Birdie's eyes briefly flickered over to Sam who was across the room, desperately wishing he was beside her instead. Their science teacher randomly picked groups for the next project, hoping it would teach the students to work better with others. Birdie didn't even bother looking at the other names when she saw they didn't start with an s, or even a b. She hardly knew anyone besides Sam and Barry despite being at the school for almost a week, but that was mostly her own doing. "Your name's. . .Birdie?"

She nodded, forcing a small smile onto her lips. She wasn't exactly in a chatty mood, but they were meant to work on a project together. Socializing was inevitable. It might not have been so bad if the other group member was there to divert Jordan's attention, but apparently they were sick and wouldn't be back until a few days later. So, for now it was Birdie and Jordan.

Jordan softly chuckled to himself and placed his book bag in his lap as he dipped his hand inside to grab his notebook. "You're not much of a talker, are you?"

"No, not really," Birdie said with a shrug.

"That's alright," Jordan said, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. He set his notebook on the desk beside Birdie, flashing the girl another smile. And, for some strange reason, Birdie felt herself smiling back. "The quiet girls are usually the smartest."

Birdie breathed out a laugh. "I don't know about that."

Jordan laughed as well, his green eyes pinned to Birdie with a small smirk. "Trust me, you'll see I'm right in a few days." Birdie bit the inside of her cheek to stop a faint smile from spreading across her lips, feeling her cheeks warm up just the slightest bit. Jordan shifted in the chair and opened up his notebook, subtly glancing towards Birdie. His eyes momentarily glimpsed down at Birdie's notebook near the edge of the desk, partially seeing a sketch that had just been started. His gaze flickered up to Birdie's eyes, watching her jot down the notes their science teacher had just written on the chalkboard.

There was something different about Birdie, and Jordan intended to figure out what it was.

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

The next time Birdie saw Isla Carters, she told herself to ask the older woman how she handled teaching every single day. Teaching elementary kids was sure to be different from high schoolers, but there had to be a secret to it or something that made it just a tad bit easier no matter the age of the students. Maybe it was just because Birdie's first class had set her expectations pretty high, but her second class had been an absolute and total nightmare; she still didn't exactly understand how that was even possible when there were only ten students in that class. But thankfully, she actually only had one more class left which wasn't until the end of the day.

And, as of right now, she currently had a free period which meant she had time to explore the school for any clues as to what was going on, and perhaps even find Sam or Dean. With Sam being a janitor, he already had free range of the entire school. He could wander around and no one would think twice of him being there. But having Dean be a gym teacher, Birdie wasn't sure if he would be able to do any investigating of his own since gym was always a popular class. But, hopefully he managed to find something if Sam didn't because Birdie didn't either.

She quickly made her way down the vacant halls, her fake badge clipped to the front of her Led Zeppelin shirt; which had been done after a student from second period not so kindly reprimanded her for not already doing so. Her eyes curiously flickered over the classrooms she passed, doing a double take when she caught a glimpse at one of the teachers.

She tilted her head and took a few steps closer. She narrowed her eyes in thought, gaze focused on the dark haired man who was speaking to the class in front of him. "No freakin' way," Birdie murmured to herself.

Who the hell is that? And wh——

"Shut up, shut up," Birdie quickly grumbled to cut Felicity's voice off. The teacher moved and Birdie quickly turned on her heel out of fear being recognized by the man. "He-he was mine and Sam's English teacher when we were kids. Mr. Wyatt."

And you think he's cute?

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

You're the one who kept the conversation going.

Birdie rolled her eyes, fastening her pace. She had no idea where Sam was, but there were only so many places Dean could've been.

Birdie caught a glimpse of the gym up ahead and she slowed to a stop in front of the double doors, pulling one open. She stepped inside with a small sigh, abruptly stopping when she noticed Dean's outfit.

He was dressed in a white shirt and tight red shorts that most likely would've gotten Birdie dress coded if she were the one wearing them. He wore a red headband, dark hair partially sticking upward. A shiny red whistle dangled around his neck, no doubt in Birdie's mind that he'd used it at least twenty times already. Birdie raised her brows in amusement and quietly stepped forward, folding her arms over her chest.

Dean didn't notice her, keeping his focus on the students as they lined up in front of him after he blew the whistle. "Today, you will have the honor of playing one of the greatest games ever invented," he said, slowly walking in front of the young students, a stern expression on his features. "A game of skill, agility, cunning. A game with one simple rule. . .dodge."

He bent down and picked up a dodgeball, throwing it at one of the students. It hit him in the stomach and the student groaned, hunching forward in pain. Birdie's eyes widened in horror, jaw dropping. Dean winced, having expected the student to dodge rather than just stand there. "Sorry."

A student further down the line raised his hand and Dean walked over. "Uh, Substitute Coach Roth. . ."

"Yes?"

"Ms. Boudreaux never let us play dodgeball."

"Well, Ms. B's in Massachusetts getting married," Dean said. "So, we're playing."

"She says it's dangerous."

Dean blew the whistle, giving the student a firm look. "Take a lap!"

"But——" Dean blew the whistle again and the student hurried off to take a lap around the gym.

One of the doors opened behind Birdie and she turned her head, spotting Sam. He gave her a small smile as he walked over to her, glancing at Dean. Dean finally noticed the two of them and Sam nudged his head, indicating he needed to talk to him. Dean picked up the bag of dodgeballs and carelessly tossed it into the air. "Go nuts."

Dean jogged over to Sam and Birdie, a faint smile on his lips. He was truly enjoying himself. "Having fun?" Sam teased.

Dean brightly smiled, holding the whistle. "The whistle makes me their god."

"Right," Sam said, examining Dean's outfit. "Nice shorts."

Dean rolled his eyes, eyes flickering between Sam and Birdie. "You guys find anything?"

"I've been over both of the schools twice," Sam said. "No sulfur."

Dean glanced at Birdie and she pursed her lips. "I haven't found anything, but I also wasn't looking."

"What? Why not?"

Birdie scoffed, giving Dean a glare as she placed her hands on her hips. "I don't know if you remember, but Sam turned me into a substitute teacher which kinda means I'm stuck in a classroom."

Sam huffed, shaking his head. "So nothing's off or different about the students?"

"Aside from being hormonal assholes? No, not really."

Dean sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "No sulfur, no demon. No demon, no case."

"I don't know. Maybe I was wrong," Sam softly said.

"Well, it happens to the best of us," Dean said. "I say we hit the road, huh? But after lunch——it's Taco Tuesday."

"No it's not," Birdie said. "They changed it to Tufu Tuesday."

"Oh, you gotta be fu——"

Sam suddenly winced, Birdie turning her head to see what he saw. She frowned, seeing the boy who'd told Dean their usual gym teacher didn't let them play dodgeball was now cradling his nose. He hastily rushed past them, heading straight for the nurse's office.

"Good hustle, Colby!" Dean shouted after the boy. "Walk it off!"

Birdie shook her head, letting out a sigh. "You're not very good with kids, are you?"

"What? I'm amazing with kids," Dean said. He turned, gesturing to the kids who were playing behind him. "Look at 'em havin' the time of their life out there."

"Whatever you say, Dean."

Dean cheekily smiled and turned away, jogging over towards the class. Birdie playfully rolled her eyes and turned towards Sam. "Wanna take a quick walk with me, Sammy?"

"Sure," Sam answered with a smile.

They turned and faced the doors, taking one last glance at Dean and his gym class——which didn't seem to be enjoying dodgeball as much as Dean was——before exiting the gym. The halls were vacant, faint chatter spewing out from under the doors of classrooms they passed by. Banners were strung up above the lockers, promoting the upcoming dance that was happening at the end of the next month. The schools mascot was splayed on every other locker, a few large paintings of the mascot above the doorways. It looked almost the same as Birdie remembered, even some of the odd scents that she smelt were the exact same. There were quite a few more security cameras than she remembered, but according to one of the students she had in her first class, all of the cameras were temporarily down and I.T. was struggling to figure out what was exactly wrong with them.

Sam let out a quiet sigh, tucking his hands in the pockets of his uniform. "How's your classes going?" he wondered, turning his head to peer over at Birdie.

Birdie puffed out her cheeks, pushing some curls out of her face when they drifted into her eyes. "The first one was actually pretty amazing. But, the teacher didn't leave anything for me to know what he wanted them to do, so I came up with my own project for them to do. But, the first class didn't seem to mind. . .in fact, they were actually. . .really nice."

"That's good though, right?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, but then the second class came along and. . ." Birdie heavily sighed, shaking her head as the students' faces popped into her mind. "Let's just say that class was what I was expecting more from the first class. Sam, those kids. . .they're fucking dickheads——-and somehow they're even meaner now."

Sam chuckled, clearing his throat seconds later in an attempt to cover it. Birdie saw right through it, though.

"You fucker," Birdie grumbled, playfully nudging his arm with her elbow. Sam just laughed even louder, running his hand through his hair. Birdie twisted her lips, turning her to face Sam as she came to a stop. "Sam. . ."

Sam stopped as well, face faltering when he noticed the unreadable expression on Birdie's features. "Yeah?"

"One of the students in my first class. . .his dad. . .is Jordan Zeffer."

Birdie didn't miss the way Sam's features immediately hardened upon hearing Jordan's name. In fact, it was the exact reaction she'd been expecting.

Despite Birdie and the boys parting ways from the school in 1996, Birdie had eventually told Sam about Jordan when they reunited a few months later. Sam hadn't minded Jordan at first, but there was something that bothered him when he saw him interact with Birdie. But after what Birdie had told him actually happened between her and Jordan, he wished he could see him one more time just to k——

An abrupt scream pierced through the hall before Sam got the chance to respond.

Sam's eyes noticeably widened, instantly locking eyes with Birdie. They quickly rushed down the hall and to the right, watching multiple students pour out of a classroom. A student in a bright red tracksuit was being escorted out by the teacher, blood splattered on his pale face as the teacher held a cloth to his hand while drops dripped onto the floor. Sam sprinted ahead of Birdie and stopped by the door as the last students poured out and Birdie came up beside him. A scrawny boy dropped to the ground by one of the tables just as they entered, blood splattered on him as well.

Sam hurried towards the boy and kneeled beside him. Birdie stood behind him, wide eyes raking over all of the blood. She turned her head, a mortified expression on her face when she saw the bloodied blender on the table in front of her. She grimaced, immediately looking away. She let out a shaky breath, her brows knitting together when she saw a black liquid slowly pour out of one of the boys' ears. Sam quickly turned his head, sharing a brief look with Birdie that told her he'd seen it too.

The boy's eyes opened a few seconds later, groggily peering up at Sam and Birdie. "What happened?"

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

Police cars, ambulances, and firetrucks had packed the school parking lot for the next hour. The student who'd been attacked was immediately whisked away in one of the ambulances while the boy who did it——-and swore he had no memory of it——was put in the back of a police cruiser and taken to the county jail until the authorities could exactly understand what happened. Birdie and Sam were questioned not long after the police arrived, but they both said they didn't actually see what happened and found the boy seconds after he'd supposedly passed out. More faculty and staff were interviewed while the high school and middle school principals gathered all of the students into the main gymnasiums for an immediate "non-violence" assembly.

Birdie didn't want to be a part of it anymore than she already was, but she, and Dean, were both told they needed to attend. Neither of them weren't given an exact reason as to why despite both of them asking, but they had no other choice but to comply. But luckily for Sam, attending the assembly wasn't seen as a requirement so he decided to check out the school for any signs of EMF while everyone was in the gym.

Students were packed into the rickety stands, some with concerned and fearful expressions after finding out what happened. Others had headphones in and were fiddling on their phones without a single care in the world, not at all fazed by their fellow classmate being attacked by another student. Birdie could sense the tension and anxiety radiating off the dozens of teachers who were spread out through the room, trying to keep their cool under the dire circumstances. She was a little on edge herself, but she couldn't let that show. So, she sucked it up and stood near one of the far walls, cursing at Sam inside her head; why couldn't she be the janitor instead of him?

Birdie let out a quiet sigh, folding her arms over her chest as she barely listened to what the Truman High principal was saying as he addressed all of the students. A few more teachers stood a few feet away, paying attention to what was being said. It probably would've been best if she did actually pay attention, but her mind was elsewhere.

Are you okay, Bird?

'Yeah, I'm alright.'

You sure?

'Yeah——'

"Ms. Sawyer?"

Birdie turned her head, her eyes falling on a girl with short black hair. She had dark brown eyes that peered at Birdie through thick lashes, something uncertain looming in her eyes. "Yes?" Birdie softly asked, giving the younger girl a warm smile. She had a few textbooks clutched in her arms, the spine of her history book almost broken from years of being passed down from student to student.

"Um, I. . .I was just wondering if I might be excused to use the restroom? I-I'm. . .I'm just having a really hard time and I just think I need a few minutes. . ."

"Oh, uh, yeah, of course," Birdie nodded.

The girl softly thanked her and turned on her heel corner, slipping out of the double doors. Birdie sighed with content and stole a glance towards the stands where she noticed one of the boys from first period in one of the front rows; Ezra Zeffer. He was grinning as he chatted with his friends, a few of the girls behind him giggling whenever he slyly glanced back at them with a mischievous smirk. Birdie twisted her lips and turned her head, furrowing her brows together as the principal's voice faded from her mind.

"These are so lame."

"Totally."

"I'm just glad we're getting out of class."

Birdie couldn't help but shrug in agreement. A teacher was droning on and on in the middle of the gymnasium, middle schoolers and high schoolers alike not paying any attention to what was being said. Birdie was seated at one of the top rows with Jordan and the rest of her science class around her. Sam was just a few rows in front of her with Barry next to him, chatting quietly as they barely listened to what the teacher was talking about. Birdie didn't even remember why they were having the assembly in the first place. Though, she didn't mind getting out of having to work on her science project.

"Hey, Bird." Birdie turned her head at the sound of her name, spotting Jordan's friend, whose name she couldn't remember for the life of her, peering at her with genuine curiosity.

"Yeah?" Birdie wondered, shifting the books she had placed on her lap.

"Is it true you live with Sam Winchester and his older brother?"

Birdie let out a quiet sigh, already knowing what was most likely to come from the question. It wasn't the first time someone had picked up on Birdie living with the Winchesters and thought it was rather strange. She usually tried to divert the topic, or if she happened to feel bold, she would simply say she did live with them and walk off without giving any more details. Yet, as she looked at the boy seated behind Jordan, she couldn't quite figure out what he was trying to get at. So, she simply nodded in response to see how the conversation would proceed.

"That's so cool," the boy smiled. "Dean's freakin' awesome."

Birdie snorted out a laugh, stealing a quick glance towards the principal. He was still speaking at the center of the room, a stern expression on his wrinkled features. "Don't tell him that, though," Birdie said, a small smile etched on her lips when she looked at Jordan's friend again.

"He must get the awesomeness from you," Jordan chimed in, the corner of his lips tweaked upwards as he peered over at Birdie.

She felt her cheeks heat up as his glistening eyes burned right back into Birdie's, unable to stop the giggle that slipped past her lips. Birdie shifted in her spot and shook her head, taking another look at the principal. She wasn't trying to get close to anyone——especially a boy she still knew very little about. She still didn't like him all too much, though there was still something about him that kept her from completely pushing him away; so far, that is.

Suddenly, Birdie jumped when she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders. She furrowed her brows, quickly turning her head to face Jordan. He shot her a wink and turned to his friend, chatting away about some new video game as if there was nothing strange going on. Birdie pursed her lips and partially moved to reach into her bag, feeling Jordan's arm slip off her shoulders when she did so.

"Hey, what're you doin'?" Jordan wondered, nudging Birdie's arm to make her look at him. She tilted her head, not missing the look that had appeared in his eyes when she faced him.

"I. . .I was just getting something out of my bag——"

"I'm just messin' with you, Bird," Jordan chuckled, nudging his foot into hers. Birdie glanced toward their feet, not expecting the odd interaction. She stiffened, feeling his arm wrap around her shoulders as he pulled her flush against his side without warning. Birdie blinked in surprise, confusion spreading across her features.

What was going on?

He'd never been this touchy with her before.

It took a moment for Birdie to calm as an awkward chuckle finally left her lips. She looked around, catching Sam's eyes who was seated a few rows in front of them. She could see his question forming in her eyes as his gaze flickered to Jordan and then back at her, but she didn't have an answer.

She had no idea what was going on, but she didn't like it one bit.

During Birdie's unintentional trip down memory lane, she'd managed to sneak out of the assembly and venture further into the school. She could no longer hear another teacher's shaky voice droning on about the importance of seeking out counseling if any student or staff felt they needed to talk to someone. As helpful as that could be to some people, she doubted that there would be much a school counselor could do to reassure anyone that nothing like that would ever happen again with it now being the second attack within the last month. Now that Birdie and the boys were there, hopefully they could put an end to what was going on so no more students could be hurt.

Birdie paused when she saw a door up ahead open, but much to her surprise, it was Dean. She and Sam hadn't spoken to Dean since right after the attack and told him they saw ectoplasm coming out of the students ear. They would've said more, but she and Sam were both whisked to a separate room by an officer to be questioned about what happened.

Dean poked his head out into the hall to make sure the coast was clear, nodding his head towards Birdie as he slipped out of the office. "Hey," he said as he jogged over, stuffing some pieces of paper into the red jacket he now wore. He also no longer had shorts on and instead wore some sweatpants that perfectly matched his jacket. "You find anything?"

"No," Birdie softly answered, shaking her head as they started to walk down the hallway. "I just finally snuck out of the assembly."

Dean snickered. "How was it going in there?"

"Honestly, terrible. The teachers have no idea what to do or say about what's going on," Birdie said. "It's like if I was asked to make a speech, that's how it's goin'."

Dean scoffed out a laugh, pushing open a set of double doors. Dean and Birdie slipped through, spotting Sam up ahead walking along a set of lockers with his EMF meter clutched in his hand. He turned when the door squeaked open behind him, spotting his brother and Birdie heading towards him.

"How's the non-violence assembly going?" Sam wondered, waiting for Dean and Birdie to catch up before he continued walking.

"Apparently, shoving a kid's arm into a Cuisinart is not a "healthy display of anger"," Dean answered, the three of them beginning to walk down the hall together. "So, the kid had ectoplasm leakin' out his ear?"

"Which only comes from a seriously pissed-off spirit," Sam said. "It's gotta be ghost possession."

Dean tilted his head. "Yeah, but that's pretty rare."

"Yeah, but it happens," Sam said, glancing between Dean and Birdie. "I mean, they get angry enough, they can take control of a person's body."

"All right, so, what, we got a ghost in the building?"

"Yeah, but where? I mean, there's no EMF," Sam said. "Maybe we could find out who it is, at least. You know, check and see if somebody died bloody around here or somethin'."

"Way ahead of you," Dean said, slowing to a stop. Sam and Birdie stopped along with him, turning to face the oldest Winchester. "I had to break into the principal's office to get this." Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He unfolded the paper, eyes skimming over the words to find what part he was looking for. "So, there was only one death on campus. It was a suicide back in '97. Some kid named Barry Cook."

Birdie immediately frowned just as Sam hastily snatched the paper out of Dean's. Birdie moved closer to Sam and peered down at the paper. Dean furrowed his brows, gaze curiously flickering between Sam and Birdie. "What?"

Sam heavily sighed, seeing that it in fact said Barry Cook——the same Barry Cook he'd befriended when the three of them went to school there. "We knew him," Sam softly said. "How'd he die?"

Dean blinked in surprise. "Uh, he slit his wrists in the first-floor girls' bathroom."

Birdie's eyes slightly widened. "That's where——"

"Right where the chick got swirleyed to death, exactly." Dean nodded. "So, what? This ghost is possessing nerds?"

"And using them to go after bullies, yeah."

"Well, does that sound like Barry's M.O.?"

Sam shifted in thought. "Barry had a hard time."

Two weeks had passed by and John, Reese, and Serena were still working on the same hunt. They'd called and texted just a few times during that time just to check on the kids or let them know they'd be longer, but it was nearly three days since Birdie last heard from her father. She wasn't too worried about it, but if she didn't hear from him by tomorrow, then she knew she would begin to think the worst might've happened. And somehow, Jordan had been able to sense that something was bothering Birdie.

He pestered her about it every chance he got, poking or prodding for information that Birdie knew better than to give out to a stranger. She'd managed to avoid answering him since their science class was the only one they sat by each other because they were still working on their project; a project that now would only be done by Jordan and Birdie since the other person in their group had switched out of that class. But, when it was finally time for her science class, he had her completely cornered.

And, just like when they were at the assembly a few days ago, Birdie couldn't shake this strange feeling she got whenever Jordan touched her.

She thought maybe it was just her usual paranoia or she was putting too much thought into something that was meant to be innocent, but then she realized just how much he actually did it. Getting something out of his bag? His hand would accidentally brush up against Birdie's shin. Stretching out his arm? His arm would either rest on Birdie's shoulders for a few seconds or he'd gently trace his fingers along her back so lightly it felt like a ghost had done it. Getting up to talk to the teacher or to grab some more supplies? His hand would still find a way to simply touch her, especially her face even when she tried to subtly move out of his reach. There were plenty of moments she thought about asking him to stop, but she didn't see the point. He most likely wouldn't listen, but if she were lucky, she'd be leaving that place in just a few days and would never have to feel his touch ever again.

Sam had caught a glimpse of one of those touches that Jordan had thought was more subtle than it actually was, doing a double take when he saw the look of discomfort that appeared on Birdie's face for just a brief moment like she was afraid Jordan would notice.

Sam continued stealing glances at Birdie throughout the rest of the class——so much that Barry quietly asked Sam if he liked Birdie in a more than friendly way. Sam forced out a laugh and shook his head at the suggestion, and Barry left it at that.

Birdie wasn't quite sure how she managed to do it, but Jordan failed to weasel his way into Birdie's home life much to his dismay by the end of class. And, it didn't settle well with Jordan either that she wouldn't open up to him while he'd told her all about his family; something Birdie didn't actually necessarily care to hear about as she focused on their assignment. Jordan became short with her throughout the rest of class, some of his touches almost becoming more firm in a way that made Birdie feel even more uneasy.

She just couldn't shake this feeling about him, and if she were being honest, she wished she got it before she partially let him into her bubble like she always told herself not to do.

When class finally ended, Jordan had just muttered a goodbye and walked out of the classroom with everyone else. Birdie chose to ignore it as she was relieved he wouldn't try to follow her to her next class. She'd lost sight of Sam and Barry as they got pushed out of the room with everyone else, but she figured she could catch up to them.

She adjusted the straps of her book bag as she walked down the crowded hallways, her timid eyes glancing over the other students. She saw high schoolers and middle schoolers, most of the high school students using the middle school to cut through the buildings to reach their classes that were farther away. No one really paid much attention to Birdie, not even batting an eye if they bumped into her despite it being their fault. Birdie rolled her eyes and readjusted her bag, fastening her pace. She looked straight ahead, catching a glimpse of Sam that made a small smile spread across her lips. However, it immediately fell when she saw an older boy knock another students things out of his hands. But, it wasn't just any other student who'd been targeted; it was Barry.

Sam hurried over to help and sank to his knees, quickly helping Barry. Some of the students nearby snickered when they witnessed what happened, opting to stand back rather than do anything to help. Birdie scoffed in disbelief and jogged ahead, stopping off to the side of Barry as he and Sam stood up.

"They're a lot nicer than people," Birdie heard Barry say. He glanced over at the girl, giving her a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, people are dicks," Birdie said, hearing Barry chuckle.

Sam gave her a faint smile and they started to continue down the hall. Sam pursed his lips, curiously glancing aside at Birdie as he walked to the left of him. "What's going on with you and Jordan?" he quietly wondered.

Birdie scrunched up her face, giving Sam an odd look. "What? Why are you askin' me that?"

Sam sighed, looking ahead for a few moments before he faced her again. Barry adjusted some of his books, muttering to himself that the order had been messed up. "Why are you not answering?" Sam retorted.

Birdie huffed. "There's nothing going on, Sam. He. . .he can be nice, but now. . ."

"Now what?" Sam pressed.

"Now I'm not so sure about him."

"What——"

"Yo! Sammy! Bird!" Sam and Birdie quickly glanced over their shoulders when they heard their names, catching a bright grin from Dean. Then he started to follow the perky blonde in front of him——his "girlfriend", Amanda Heckerling; Truman Highs very own All American Girl. Birdie had only spoken to the girl a few times, but she liked her enough.

She was good for Dean, and hopefully he saw it, too.

"That's your brother with Amanda Heckerling?" Barry asked Sam with wide eyes. Sam nodded, knowing that he wasn't going to get anything more out of Birdie now that the topic had changed. "He's cool."

Birdie snorted at that.

Dean was anything but cool.

"Yeah. He thinks so," Sam said.

They continued ahead and Sam couldn't help but frown. He wanted to know what was going on with Birdie and Jordan——not because he was jealous because he certainly wasn't, but because he wasn't sure if he trusted Jordan, and from Birdie's response, Sam got the impression Birdie was starting to wonder about the boy.

Birdie wasn't paying much attention as they neared their next class, but she, Sam, and Barry came to a halt when the bully from their English class, Dirk McGregor Jr., stopped in front of them. "Hey, tough guy," Dirk sneered, looking directly at Sam. "I've been looking for you. Still wanna take Barry's place?"

"Get out of here, Barry. You too, Bird."

"Hell no," Birdie firmly said.

"I-I'll go get a teacher," Barry said, hastily turning on his heel.

Dirk stepped forward as if to follow Barry, but Sam placed his hand on Dirk's chest to prevent him from doing so. "You wanna go?" Dirk snapped.

Sam dropped his hand down at his side with a shake of his head. "I'm not gonna fight you, Dirk."

"Why not? You chicken? Come on!"

Sam just shook his head and started to turn away, Birdie doing the same. "No."

Dirk grabbed hold of Sam's arm to stop him and punched him in his cheek, knocking him to the ground. Birdie's eyes widened in surprise and she narrowed her eyes. She caught Dirk's eye and she reached up and swung her hand, smacking the boy across the face. Her face slightly faltered after she did so, immediately wondering how her mother would react if she found out Birdie hit someone while at school. But, she didn't have time to think about it any longer. Dirk huffed in anger when some of the students watching snickered at the fact a girl had hit him and forcefully shoved her to the ground. Sam's eyes snapped over at her, anger sparking in his eyes when seeing the pained expression on her features.

"Get up! Get up!" Dirk harshly shouted at Sam. Birdie clenched her jaw, catching Sam's eye. "Come on! Get up!"

Birdie shifted and started to push herself off the ground, hands balled into fists. "Hey, get back! Get back," a stern voice interrupted. Birdie's head whipped around, spotting Mr. Wyatt hurrying over with Barry behind him. "That is enough."

Sam and Birdie rose to their feet, watching Dirk start to storm off. Mr. Wyatt glanced at Sam and Birdie to make sure they were okay, giving them a faint nod before he took off after Dirk. "Dirk? Dirk! Stop. Dirk, stop right there."

Birdie puffed out her cheeks, watching Mr. Wyatt chase after Dirk until she spotted a face amongst the crowd of onlookers.

It was Jordan, and she could've sworn he was holding back a smirk.

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

Hearing about Barry's death had hit Sam harder than it did Birdie. She was upset too, but she hadn't been as close to the boy as Sam was. Considering how young they were when they went to school together, there hadn't been any way for Sam to keep in contact with Barry, especially with the constant moving from place to place. But, for the time that they were at that school, Sam had managed to find a genuine friend in Barry.

Anyone could see that it was affecting Sam, maybe even more than even he was expecting. It did happen a long time ago, but losing a friend was never easy no matter how long it'd been since they last spoke. What made it even worse was that Barry was the only person who could be the ghost now haunting the school and turning some of the students into vengeful killers.

Dean suggested that Sam could hang back while he and Birdie would go to the cemetery to burn Barry's bones after researching more into his death and finding out where he was buried, but Sam immediately denied. He would've felt worse not going.

"How do you think he's doin'?" Birdie wondered, tearing her gaze away from Sam who was still digging up Barry's grave. Her eyes fell on Dean who was beside her, rummaging through the trunk of the Impala for his lighter he couldn't find. Birdie had a dirty shovel in one of her hands, some smudges of dirt on the side of her head after she wiped her face there to push her curls out of her eyes. She and the boys had been taking turns digging up the grave for the last hour, occasionally glancing around the cemetery to make sure there wasn't anyone around to witness them committing a crime.

"He'll be alright," Dean softly replied, grabbing the box of matches and handing it over to Birdie. She sighed, closing her fingers around the box tight. Then Dean sighed and stood up straight, slamming the trunk shut. He caught Birdie's gaze, noticing something familiar lingering in her eyes. "How're you holdin' up?"

"I wasn't that close to him, not like Sam was," Birdie quietly replied. "But, it still sucks."

"Yeah, I know." Dean glanced over at Sam and then faced Birdie again. "C'mon. Let's get it over with then."

Birdie silently nodded and started to walk back towards the grave with Dean a few steps in front of her. He held out his hand and Birdie gave him a faint smile, handing him the shovel. Sam glanced up when he saw them return, a few heavy breaths escaping past his lips. Beneath him, Dean and Birdie could see part of Barry's coffin was beginning to show. "Find the lighter?" 

Birdie held the box of matches up as an answer.

She took a few steps forward and stopped near Barry's tombstone as Sam moved to the side, prying open the top part of the coffin with the shovel. He gazed down at the aged bones, quietly sighing to himself. Birdie pursed her lips into a fine line and held out her hand when Sam turned to begin climbing out of the grave. Dean reached down as well, helping Birdie pull Sam out of the hole. He puffed out his cheeks and grabbed the salt from the duffel bag by the end of the grave, taking a look at Birdie.

She offered him a tiny smile, but Sam just looked back down at the grave with a blank expression. After a few seconds, he opened the can of salt and poured it onto Barry's bones, sighing to himself once he was done. Dean poured the gasoline on next, making sure all of the bones were soaked in it. Birdie stole a quick glance at Sam, frowning as she took one last look at Barry's bones.

It hurt to be doing this to an old friend, but it had to be done.

She silently opened the box, pulling out a single match. She quickly swiped it across the back of the packet, sighing as she held the lit match in her hands. Then, she dropped it onto Barry's bones.

The bones quickly caught fire, roaring up at the trio as they gazed down into the flaming grave. Sam turned off his flashlight and tossed it into the duffel bag behind him. Birdie heavily sighed, turning away from the bones.

So long, Barry Cook.

It was quiet in the car as Dean drove away from the cemetery. Light rain sprinkled down from the black sky overhead, trickling down the windows. Birdie was tiredly laying on the backseats with her jacket balled up under her head as a makeshift pillow, listening to the rain pattering on the Impala.

Dean glanced over at Sam, catching the weary expression on Sam's face. "You all right?"

"Barry was my friend," Sam said. "We just burned his bones."

"Well, he's at peace now, Sam."

"I mean, if Dad had let us stay just a little while longer, maybe I could have helped the kid, you know?"

"You read the coroner's report same as me. Barry was on every anxiety drug and antidepressant known to man. School was fuckin' hell for that kid. His parents had split up. He just wanted out. It was tragic, but it's not your fault, Sam," Dean said, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. "To tell you the truth, I'm glad we got out of that town. I fuckin' hated that school."

Sam twisted his lips in thought. "It wasn't all bad."

Dean scoffed out a laugh and glanced over at Sam. Birdie pursed her lips as if she disagreed, but she wasn't about to voice that. Sam didn't need that right now. "How can you say that after what happened to you and Bird?"

"That kid's fucking dead."

"Dean."

"I'm gonna rip his fuckin' lungs out!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's not a big deal."

Dean sharply turned on his heel, fully facing Sam and Birdie as they sat on some bleachers by the field in front of the high school. Sam had a faint bruise on his jaw from Dirk's punch, but that was about it for his injuries. Birdie hadn't been hurt, though her hand had been red for a few minutes after she smacked Dirk. When Dean finally saw them, his expression had told them that he already knew about what happened.

Word had spread fast about Sam and Birdie's debacle with Dirk——much, much faster than they were expecting. Thankfully, Sam and Birdie didn't get into any trouble, though Birdie did get a firm lecture for smacking Dirk from the middle school principal. The principal also told them all of their parents would be notified, but Sam and Birdie weren't too worried about that; their parents most likely wouldn't check their voicemails before picking up the kids to go to the next town. "Not a big deal? Sammy, look at yourself. If Dad was here——"

"He's not."

"Well, I am!" Dean firmly said. "And as soon I'm finished with that fucking dick——"

"Just shut up, okay?!" Sam exclaimed, annoyance etched on his features. Birdie raised her brows, turning to look at the older boy. Sam closed his eyes for a moment and then sighed with a shake of his head. "I don't need your help."

"That's right, you don't. You could have torn him apart——both of you. So why didn't you?" Dean asked, glancing between them. Birdie shifted, turning her attention elsewhere. And just her luck, her eyes happened to fall on Jordan talking to some of his friends across the street as they waited for their bus. Dean's eyes flickered over to Birdie, doing a double take when he saw her looking at someone whose face he couldn't see.

"Because I don't wanna be the freak for once, Dean," Sam firmly defended. Birdie quickly tore her gaze away from Jordan, instead focusing her attention on Sam and Dean. "I wanna be normal."

"So takin' a beatin'——that's normal?" Dean asked in disbelief. Sam just looked away and Dean rolled his eyes, huffing under his breath.

"You hear anything from your dad, or my dad?" Birdie wondered, trying to change the topic before the boys could continue bickering any longer.

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He glanced down, pursing his lips as he stuffed it back in his jacket when he didn't see he had any missed phone calls or unanswered text messages. "Our dad called this morning, said they're going to be another week at least," he answered. "We weren't supposed to be here this long."

"At least you've got Amanda," Sam said. "She's cool."

"Yeah, I like her," Birdie said. "You finally found a girl who can tolerate you."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Guys, she wants me to meet her parents," he said, shaking his head at the mere thought. "I don't do parents."

"Don't be such a baby," Birdie teased.

Dean's eyes snapped towards her, raising a brow in her direction. "What's goin' on with you and that other kid?"

"What other kid?" Birdie questioned, feigning dumb.

"His name's Jordan." Sam was the one to answer. "He's from our science class."

"Oh? He is?" Dean wondered, a small smirk spreading across his face.

Birdie quickly started to shake her head. "No, no, it is not like that. He. . ." Birdie's voice dragged off, involuntarily looking aside when she felt another pair of eyes on her. She locked eyes with Jordan again, and this time, Sam and Dean both noticed. Birdie pursed her lips together when Jordan gave her a small smile,  facing Dean. "He's just a. . .a friend, kinda. That's it. Now, can we leave, please?"

"Mr. Winchester, Ms. Fowler, can I talk to you two?"

Birdie and Sam shared a quick look with each other, having the same thought. Aside from a few more glances than usual, no one had said or done anything about what happened between them and Dirk the day before. The conversation with their principal had been the end of that entire discussion and they'd just been left with a few warnings. No other teacher had said anything either, leaving Sam and Birdie to believe it was done and over with. And, throughout their English class, Mr. Wyatt hadn't said or done anything that indicated that there was more left to be said about it. But, it seemed they were both wrong.

Birdie glanced over at Sam as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder, eyes flickering back to Mr. Wyatt who was patiently waiting at his desk. Barry slowed to a stop behind them, giving them a small smile. "Um. . .I'll wait for you guys outside."

Barry headed out of the room, the last student slipping out after him.

"Look, if this is about the fight, I didn't start it," Sam said.

"Yeah, he didn't. It——"

"Oh, no, it's not about the fight," Mr. Wyatt said, shaking his head as he looked between Sam and Birdie. Birdie furrowed her brows, making her confusion known to her teacher. Mr. Wyatt leaned forward in his chair, shifting some papers he had placed in front of him. "You two know this assignment was non-fiction, right?"

Sam and Birdie nodded in response. "Yes, Mr. Wyatt."

"So your family and Ms. Fowlers family killed a werewolf last summer, huh?" Mr. Wyatt asked Sam. Birdie blinked, turning her head to steal a glance at Sam. She remembered that hunt. It was only a few days, but it had actually been quite. . .fun. There were a few issues of course, but it wasn't anything Birdie's family or the Winchesters couldn't handle. Mr. Wyatt looked down at the other paper in front and then his gaze landed on Birdie. "And Birdie. . .you know this was supposed to be an essay, right?"

Birdie sheepishly nodded, glancing towards the ground. "Yeah, I know."

Sam furrowed his brows at that, a hint of surprise sparking in his eyes when he saw that instead of writing an essay, Birdie had opted to write a song about her most memorable family moment. If she were anyone else, he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between them writing a story or a song, but Birdie's handwriting always ended up more sloppy when she wrote lyrics. Birdie wasn't sure why, but she liked to tell Sam it was because it was more exciting to write music than a full on story; if she wanted to tell a full on story, she could simply use a song or draw it. So for her "essay" she'd opted to make a little tune about the time Birdie and her father went on a camping trip and met some strange "people"——which were actually monsters they were hunting, but she wasn't going to tell Mr. Wyatt that.

Mr. Wyatt quietly sighed, glancing between Sam and Birdie. He wasn't sure what their home lives were like, but he knew that they were currently living in the same motel along with Sam's older brother. He didn't want to pry, but he couldn't help but just wonder about them. They were both incredibly bright and intelligent kids——more than either of them gave themselves credit for. "Why would you write something like this?" Mr. Wyatt wondered, his question more directed at Sam. Though he wasn't entirely sure if the lyrics Birdie wrote told an entirely true story, it had the potential to be believable while Sam's was more. . .unrealistic.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said, shrugging his shoulders. "As soon as our parents get back, we're leaving, so, you can flunk us if you want to."

"I'm not flunking either of you. I'm giving you both an A." Birdie's brows furrowed together in surprise. Mr. Wyatt picked up their essays, handing them to Sam and Birdie. Seeing the essay close up, Birdie could see the capital A written in the corner by her name. An identical one was one Sam's. "Now, Sam, aside from the werewolf, is that really how you'd describe your family?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, your brother is quite a character. And your father——he seems, uh, driven." Birdie raised her brows to herself, stealing a glance at Sam. That was one word to describe John Winchester, but it wasn't the one Birdie would've used. But, she'd use another word to describe Sam's infamous father. Mr. Wyatt faintly smiled, turning his attention to Birdie. "Your father seems like a good man, Birdie."

"He is," Birdie said, a small grin etched on her lips.

Mr. Wyatt smiled back at her, nodding his head. "Anyway, they're both good——really good. Have you ever thought about pursuing writing, or-or something with music?"

"I can't, uh, neither of us can," Sam said. "We have to go into the family business."

Mr. Wyatt tilted his head slightly. "Family business?"

"Yeah, my, uh, our dad's are both mechanics that work together. So, we have to be mechanics, too."

Mr. Wyatt nodded as Sam spoke, placing his elbows on his desk with his hands folded together. "Do you want to go in the family business?"

Sam blinked, waiting a few seconds. "No one's ever asked me that before."

Truthfully, Birdie hadn't really put much thought into it either. Hunting was all she ever knew. She'd grown up in the life and had been taught from the moment she could talk about monsters and all the different kinds that contaminated the earth. She didn't always like it or want to be a part of it, but she'd never thought about the possibility of doing something different when she got older. "Me either," Birdie said.

"Well?"

"More than anything, no," Sam answered, firmly shaking his head. Then he turned his head towards Birdie and she caught his eye. She gave him a small smile and nodded her head in agreement.

"Well," Mr. Wyatt said, standing up from his desk. Birdie and Sam turned, watching Mr. Wyatt come closer and sit on his desk. "I don't want to overstep my bounds here, but. . .you two don't have to do anything you don't wanna do. Look, I mean, I know what it's like. I come from a family of surgeons, and that wasn't me. So, you know, I traded in the money and prestige of being a doctor for all the glamor you see around you," Mr. Wyatt said with a smile. Birdie breathed out a faint laugh, keeping her focus on her teacher. "But the point is. . .there may be three or four big choices that shape someone's whole life, and you two need to be the ones that make them, not anyone else. You both seem like great kids. Just live the lives you want to live."

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

Strangely enough, Birdie had managed to sleep through the night without any nightmares plaguing her mind. She'd first fallen asleep in the back in the Impala on the way to the motel as the music playing from the radio lulled her to sleep, but then she woke up right as Dean parked the car. Sam and Dean didn't say much as the three of them got settled into their room, all three of them going to sleep almost instantly. When morning finally rolled around, Birdie got dressed in a white blouse that was paired with peach colored overalls and a pair of tattered sneakers. Sam and Dean were already awake by the time Birdie woke, Sam almost looking like he'd been awake for hours already, and that was more than likely. Sam hadn't spoken much more about Barry as they gathered their things, but Dean and Birdie didn't push. Hopefully that by getting out of town, Sam could start to forget about Barry.

That changed when Sam brought up the idea of going back to the high school one last time so he could talk to one of his former teachers.

Birdie offered to go in along with him, but Sam said it was something he needed to do by himself for whatever reason. Birdie didn't question it and patiently waited in the car with Dean. But, after a few minutes she headed inside because she needed to use the restroom. She had her substitute badge pinned to one of her overalls straps in case anyone were to see her and question what she was doing there; hopefully no one would actually pay too much attention considering she was technically meant to still be there to cover for Mr. Vogel, but she hadn't told the school she wouldn't be in.

But, she would worry about that if it came to it.

Birdie heavily sighed, quickly making her way through the empty hallway as she wiped her hands on her pants to dry them off a little better. Her eyes skimmed over the faded lockers to her right, pausing when she saw the numbers on one of them with a peeling sticker of Scooby-Doo in the top left corner. That was Dean's old locker; she'd put that sticker there so she would be able to find it easier. Birdie softly smiled to herself, continuing to head towards the exit. She was about to pass by another hall, but she stopped when she heard some hushed voices. She curiously turned her head, spotting Ezra talking to the girl from his Art class——Morgan, was it?

Birdie tilted her head, realizing she was the same girl who'd come up to Birdie during the assembly. Birdie pursed her lips and started to continue forward, but she stopped when she saw the girl step back from Ezra when he tried to touch her arm. Birdie knitted her brows together, seeing Ezra attempt it again only for Morgan to pull away again. Anger appeared to spark on Ezra's face due to the rejection and Birdie's eyes widened.

"Hey," Birdie firmly called out, quickly making her way towards Ezra and Morgan. Their heads snapped over at the sound of the voice, realizing who she was. Morgan was visibly relieved for the interruption, taking Ezra being distracted as a chance to scoot further away from him. "What're you doing? Shouldn't you both be in class?"

Ezra took a step back, giving Birdie a glare. "Ms. Sawyer? I thought you weren't subbing here anymore," he said.

Birdie just narrowed her eyes. He wasn't about to distract her from what was going on before she intervened. "What do you think you're doing?" Birdie repeated her question, focusing on Ezra.

"We were just talking. Right, Morg?" Ezra asked, glancing over at the girl with an expression that reminded Birdie exactly of Jordan.

"Uh, yeah, Ms. Sawyer," Morgan softly agreed, forcing a smile on her lips. Birdie's eyes carefully examined Morgan, feeling a sunken feeling wash over her. She easily recognized that look in the young girls eyes. It was the look of fear——the same fear of being hurt by someone you thought cared about you.

Birdie turned her attention back on Ezra, firmly placing her hands on her hips. "Cut the bullshit, Ezra," Birdie harshly snapped. "Get to class or I'm gonna write you up."

Ezra scoffed, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. "Fine. C'mon, Morg."

"No, you can go on without her. I actually need her help with something," Birdie said, giving Morgan a reassuring smile.

Ezra rolled his eyes in disbelief, scoffing under his breath as he turned on his heel. Birdie's eyes followed him the whole way, making sure he was out of sight before fully facing Morgan.

Morgan shifted, looking down at the floor when Birdie's eyes fell on her. "Are you alright?" Birdie softly asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Morgan nodded, lifting her head. "You. . .you didn't have to do that, Ms. Sawyer."

"I think I did," Birdie said, twisting her lips. "Did he hurt you?"

"What?" Morgan gaped, suddenly getting very defensive. "No, of course not."

Birdie's eyes flickered to a faint bruise on one of Morgan's wrists that peeked out from underneath her jacket. It looked a lot like a handprint as if someone grabbed her too tightly. "He did that to you, didn't he?" Birdie suggested, nodding her head towards Morgan's arm.

Morgan didn't even look down as she pulled her sleeve further down.

Birdie softly sighed. "Morgan, you don't have to be quiet about this. You can tell someone——you should tell someone."

"It. . .he's not always like that. We're happy together. . .usually."

"Can I let you in a little secret?" Birdie wondered. Morgan furrowed her brows, slowly nodding her head. "I. . .I knew someone who was just like Ezra. I-I thought we were friends, or kind of were, but I think he thought we were becoming a little more. . .but I wasn't interested. He didn't like that. And, when I said or did something he didn't like. . ."

"Did. . .did he hurt you?" Birdie nodded. "H-How'd you-how'd you get out of it?"

"My honest answer?" Birdie wondered. Morgan nodded. "I kicked his sorry ass." Morgan's eyes widened, her lips parting in utter shock. "You might not believe me, but I did. And, he did leave me alone after that."

"What should I do then? I can't really do that to Ezra. . ."

"To kick someone's ass, you don't always have to do it literally," Birdie told the girl. "Sometimes bruising their ego is even worse."

Morgan pondered Birdie's words for a few moments and then nodded her head as a smile worked onto her lips. "Thank you, Ms. Sawyer."

"You're welcome, Morgan. Now, uh, do you have a piece of paper? I can sign it and write a note on it or something so you don't get in trouble for being late."

"Are you gonna do it for Ezra, too?" Morgan curiously wondered, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a piece of notebook paper and handed it to Birdie along with a pen.

Birdie accepted the paper and pen, snickering at the question. "No, definitely not. He's on his own."

Morgan quietly chuckled, softly smiling when Birdie handed the paper and pen back to her. "Thank you again, Ms. Sawyer."

"You're very welcome, Morgan."

Morgan nodded and let out a quiet sigh, heading in the same direction Ezra had gone since they had the same class. She stole a brief look over her shoulder, giving Birdie a small smile when she saw the woman was still standing there.

Aren't you just the sweetest?

Birdie puffed out her cheeks, rolling her eyes with a shake of her head. Hopefully kicking Ezra's ass would do the trick like it did when Birdie kicked Jordan's ass.

Birdie stood at her locker, cramming her unfinished assignments in the very bottom of her rusted out locker. She'd been at the school for over a month, but she'd barely done any of her assignments other than for English and Science. It wasn't her best idea since Serena wanted Birdie to get good grades at each and every school, but in Birdie's defense she didn't think she'd be at that school for as long as she had been and would actually need to focus on her grades. Her father had said it would be two weeks at the most, but. . .

"Hey, Bird."

Birdie blinked in surprise when someone rushed up beside her, throwing their arm around her shoulders as if they were best friends. She lifted her head, immediate dread washing over her when she saw it was Jordan. She heavily sighed, shrugging off his shoulder without responding. Part of her told her just to let it be, but another part filled with immediate annoyance and told her to stand her ground.

"Woah," Jordan said, taking a small step back. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Birdie answered, closing her locker and facing him. "Please, don't touch me."

"What's with you all of a sudden? It didn't bother you before," Jordan said, looking a little offended that she seemed to not want him getting close to her.

Birdie adjusted her book bag, raising her brows. "Yeah, it did."

Jordan scoffed, giving her an incredulous look. "What the hell, Bird? Is this because something your friends said?"

"My friends?"

"Yeah, Sam and his brother," Jordan snapped. "The friends you live with."

Birdie tilted her head, blinking a few times as she pondered Jordans words. Was he actually. . .jealous? "Jordan, I'm not doing this right now."

"Okay, okay. I'm-I'm sorry," he said, nodding his head as his expression softened. "Let's get to class." Jordan reached forward and grabbed hold of her arm. Birdie narrowed her eyes, trying to tug away, but Jordan tightened his grip.

"Let go," Birdie said, feeling her anger start to bubble up. She'd had just about enough of him touching her without her consent. "I'm not going with you."

Jordan clenched his jaw, tightening his grip. Birdie winced, eyes burning into Jordan. "Don't be a baby, Birdie. Listen to me."

Birdie sharply narrowed her eyes and took a step forward as if she was going to walk with him, but then she swung her fist. Her hand harshly collided with Jordan's jaw, sending him tumbling towards the ground. He let go of Birdie and grunted, hissing when his head smacked against the tiled floor. Other students in the hall stopped to watch, gawking at the sight.

"You bitch!" Jordan shouted.

He clambered onto his feet and lunged at Birdie with a snarl, but she swiftly ducked. Jordan frustratedly groaned and spun on his heel, throwing his fist in her direction. Birdie quickly lifted her arm and blocked it. Then she countered it and punched him in the jaw again. Jordan clenched his eyes shut and his hand went to cradle his jaw, knocking into the lockers behind him. While he was gripping his aching jaw, Birdie lifted her leg and kicked him in the stomach. He crumbled to the ground again and Birdie sank to the ground with a clenched jaw, teeth gritted as she started to punch him in the face.

"What's going on here?!"

Birdie stopped and stood up, eyes noticeably widening when she saw the principal pushing his way through the crowd of stunned students. Their jaw dropped as they spotted Birdie in the middle of the circle with Jordan Zeffer whimpering in agony below Birdie and her bloodied hand still clenched into a tight fist. Birdie slowly lowered her hands to her side, stealing a glance at Jordan.

He caught her eye, tears threatening to spill over despite his best attempts to try and prevent them. Birdie took a small step towards him and he whimpered, cowering in the opposite direction. Birdie let out a breath of relief, facing the principal again.

Sure she would get in serious trouble, but at least Jordan would be leaving her alone from now on.

Birdie bit back a grin when she remembered the pained look on Jordan's face after she kicked his ass, letting out a content sigh. She tucked her hands in the pockets of her overalls and slipped around a corner, only to halt in her tracks when she saw Sam kneeled on the ground with his hand firmly pressed over a student's mouth.

"Sam!" Birdie harshly whispered. Just then a strange, translucent black figure emerged from the girl and slipped into the vent above them. The girl collapsed into Sam and he protectively wrapped his arms around her, his heart racing as he caught Birdie's eye.

Birdie stared at him in disbelief, holding her hands out at her sides. "What the fuck was that?" she demanded to know. Sam panted, glancing around to make sure no one else saw what was going on.

"I don't know," Sam breathed out.

Birdie shakily exhaled and jogged over. The girl in Sam's arms softly groaned, blinking as regained consciousness. "Hey, it's okay," Sam said.

"What happened?" the girl whispered.

"Let's get her to the nurse," Birdie said.

Sam nodded in agreement and carefully stood up with the girl. The girl placed her hand on her head, clenching her eyes shut. She managed to stand on her feet, being led towards the nurse by Sam. Birdie was a little ways in front of them, her eyes frantically searching for a sign that read nurses office. A pained grunt slipped past Sam's lips and Birdie quickly glanced over her shoulder.

"I'm-I'm fine," Sam said, shaking his head.

Birdie didn't believe him, but she could pester him after they got the girl to the nurse. Thankfully, the nurses office was just up ahead. "Here," Birdie said, nudging her head towards the office. Sam moved his arm from the girl and Birdie reached out, giving the girl a small smile as she gently wrapped her arm around her to guide her into the room.

The nurse glanced over at the sound of footsteps, doing a double take when she saw the student nearly hunched over. "Oh my gosh! What the heck happened to her?" the nurse asked as she rushed to the students aid. Birdie removed her arm and the nurse guided the student to one of the beds.

"I'm-I'm not sure. I found her passed out in the hall. . .I'm gonna see if I can find anyone who saw anything."

"Okay. But come back when you're done."

"Will do," Birdie easily lied.

Birdie quickly exited the office and turned her head, gasping at the sight of smeared blood on Sam's jacket when he turned to face her. How the hell did she miss that before? "Sam, what the fuck?" she harshly whispered. Sam attempted to shake her off, but she swatted his hand and peered at the wound. "Did she do that to you?"

"Whatever was inside her did, yeah," Sam panted. "And she kicked me."

"Kicked you? Where'd she——" Sam's pained expression gave Birdie her answer. She winced with a sharp inhale, scrunching up her nose. "Let's get you outta here. I'd rather not be here when that girl starts to remember what exactly happened."

"Yeah," Sam whispered with a tight nod.

Birdie grabbed hold of Sam's hand without a second thought, sticking right beside him as they hurried towards the exit. Sam had his other hand firmly pressed against his shoulder, trails of blood seeping between his slender fingers and soaking into his jacket. Birdie constantly glanced around the hall and into some of the classrooms they rushed by, wanting to make sure no one saw them.

They finally reached the exit and they stepped out, spotting the Impala still parked in the same spot. Dean glanced over when he saw two figures hurrying out of the school, fear instantly striking his heart when he saw the blood and Sam's pained expression. He started to climb out and Sam shook his head as a signal for him to stay in the car. He frowned, watching in horror as Birdie guided Sam into the passenger seat. Then she quickly climbed into the backseat, sliding into the middle with her brows still furrowed together with concern.

"What the fuck happened in there?"

"Just drive," Sam said, wincing as he adjusted himself in the seat. "I'll-I'll explain on the way."

Birdie finally got her sweet, sweet revenge.

Sam had been insistent, but the stab wound in his shoulder was just barely big enough to need stitches. And lucky enough, Birdie was the one to patch him up once they found a side road with a little opening to park and figure out what exactly happened back at the school. Birdie didn't even attempt to hide her excitement, finally being the one who was the one doing the stitching. Dean laughed and snickered, catching Sam wincing or hissing while Birdie patched him up. Birdie innocently grinned the entire time, but she did actually do her best to make sure the stitches were secure and wouldn't come undone anytime soon. As she did that, Sam explained what happened with the girl, occasionally answering a question that Dean or Birdie had.

A few minutes later Dean stood up, grabbing a bottle of alcohol from the cooler that was set behind the Impala, holding a file he'd stolen from the school their first day in his other hand. Sam was seated off to the side, Birdie finishing putting up the medical supplies in the trunk. "Trust me. This will help," Dean said. Sam let out a small groan when he shifted, accepting the bottle and placing it between his legs. Dean took a few steps to the side, an angry expression on his features. "That ghost is dead. I'm gonna rip its fuckin' lungs out!" Birdie tilted her head, raising a brow in Dean's direction when he looked at her over his shoulder. "Well, you know what I mean."

"It knew my name, Dean. My real name," Sam said. Dean leaned against the trunk, eyes skimming through the file. Birdie sighed to herself, sinking into the lawn chair next to Sam. "We burned Barry's bones. What the fuck?"

"Well, maybe it wasn't Barry. Maybe we missed something. We just gotta go back," Dean said, flipping through pages in the file. Birdie quietly sighed, sipping on her water. Dean furrowed his brows, dropping the page before he looked down at it again to make sure he read it right. "No way. How the fuck did we not see this before?"

"See what?" Birdie asked.

"Check it out." Dean handed the file to Sam and Birdie leaned over, partially leaning against Sam to see the files in his hands. "Look, Martha Dumptruck, Revenge of the Nerds, and Hello Kitty——they rode the same bus."

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

"Well, that would explain why there's no EMF at the school, but not the attacks," Dean said, casually leaning against Baby again. "I mean, ghosts are tied to the places that they haunt. They can't just fuckin' bail."

Sam closed the file, a thought occurring to him. "Unless this one can." Dean gave Sam a look identical to the weary one Birdie wore. Sam sighed, his gaze shifting between Dean and Birdie. "Guys, 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."

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

"It's possible."

"Ghosts getting creative——well, that's fucking super."

Birdie heavily sighed and leaned back in her chair. But then she furrowed her brows, eyes darting towards Dean. "Did you make a Heathers reference?"

"What? No," Dean quickly denied.

Birdie tilted her head, a grin starting to appear on her lips. "Yeah, I think you did. Martha Dumptruck?"

Dean rolled his eyes, setting the file behind him. "Shut up."

Birdie giggled and stood up, stretching out her arms. "Fine, fine. What do you boys say we go stop a ghost now?"

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

"Here, ghosty, ghosty, ghosty! Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Dean called out, tapping his shotgun against the roof of the bus they were checking out.

It wasn't hard to locate the bus yard and find the bus the students rode, having seen the yard on the way into town. And, since the students were still in school, they knew some of the buses were back in the yard until the bus drivers had to take the students back home.

Sam held an EMF meter, the lights and buzzer going off as indication that the bus was in fact haunted. "Man, I don't get it," Sam said, making his way down the bus aisle while Dean and Birdie checked out the seats ahead of him. "No one ever died on this bus, and it's not like there's a body hidden in here."

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

"Yeah."

Birdie sat down in one of the flimsy seats, glancing at the ground to see if a student might have left something behind that could be what they were looking for. She wasn't sure what she was looking for exactly, but perhaps she would know it when saw it.

"Hey, Bird?"

"Yeah?" Birdie said, lifting her head to see Sam slowly making his way further down the aisle. Dean was now near the front of the bus, closely inspecting the seats with his brows knitted together with concentration.

"Have you. . .you haven't seen Jordan since we've been back, have you?"

"No. Why?"

"Wait, Jordan?" Dean repeated, turning to face Sam and Birdie. "That douchebag who didn't like me and Sam?"

"Yeah, that one," Birdie said.

"Why the hell would you see him?" Dean wondered.

Birdie heavily sighed, standing up and leaning her arms against the seat in front of her. "His son is-was in one of my classes," Birdie said. Dean's eyes slightly widened, standing up straighter. "And actually. . .his son is just like him."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, concern etched on his face.

"I saw him with another student today——one of the girls from the same class I had him in——and he treated her the same that Jordan. . .it was the same way he acted with me. I got in the middle of it and sent him to class, and I might have actually told the girl I kicked someone's ass who treated me the same way to get them to leave me alone. But, I didn't tell her it was Ezra's dad."

"Your advice to the girl was to kick his ass?" Dean asked, raising his brows in amusement.

Birdie shrugged her shoulders, cheekily smiling. "I mean, kinda, but. . .that's not the point. The point is we need to get back to work. We need to stop this ghost."

Dean opened his mouth like he wanted to speak, but then he nodded in agreement. He moved towards the front of the bus again, taking a seat in the driver's seat. Sam's eyes remained locked with Birdie's for a few seconds longer and she gave him a small smile, starting to get back to checking the rest of the bus. Dean reached into the glove compartment, rummaging through it before taking out some loose papers. "Got a new driving permit," he announced, making sure Sam and Birdie could hear him at the back of the bus. Birdie stepped back into the aisle and made her way towards Dean with Sam right behind her. Birdie partially stood behind the drivers seat while Sam crouched down next to the seat, gazing down at the permit in Dean's hands. "Issued two weeks ago."

"Just before the first attack," Sam noted.

"Yeah. Name of the bus driver is Dirk McGregor Sr.," Dean said. Birdie furrowed her brows, catching Sam's eye. "39 North Central Avenue."

"McGregor?"

Dean turned in the seat, glancing between Sam and Birdie. "Yeah. Why?"

"We knew his son."

Dean blinked in surprise, shooting Sam and Birdie a look. "Did you guys know everybody at this school?"

No, Sam and Dean did not know everybody who attended Truman during their time there. But, it appeared they might have actually known the ghost that was targeting popular kids by using the less popular students to seek revenge.

In order to find out if they were right about who the ghost was, Sam and Dean headed to the house of Dirk's father, Dirk Mcgregor Sr. Rather than going along with them, Birdie instead had Dean drop her back off at the high school. He and Sam weren't sure it was such a good idea after what happened just a few hours ago, but Birdie wanted to check on Morgan and make sure she was okay.

It was just a few minutes before school finally let out, but a few high schoolers were already out of their classes and waiting in the halls or in front of the building, car keys in hand with text books clutched in their opposite arms. Birdie's eyes curiously skimmed over the students' young faces as she stood on the sidewalk, trying to spot Morgan amongst the crowd.

"No, I want something done about this now."

Birdie turned her head, seeing an older man standing in front of the Truman High vice principal. A young boy was beside the man, just slightly shorter. A black-haired girl was beside the vice principal, awkwardly gazing at the ground with her hands folded in front of her waist. Birdie narrowed her eyes and her lips parted, realizing that it was Jordan standing with Ezra. Morgan was the girl in front of Ezra, not making any notion to make eye contact with Ezra or his intimidating father.

Birdie partially turned away, taking a few subtle steps closer to try and hear better without making it obvious she was eavesdropping.

"Mr. Zeffer, I can assure that we are already——"

"No, no, no, no, no. Detention is not good enough," Jordan harshly snapped. "I want her punished. Severely. She hurt my son!"

"We are already——"

"Dad, come on," Ezra childishly whined, folding his arms over his chest. "This is bullshit."

The vice principal heavily sighed, running a hand over his balding head in clear distress. "Let me. . .I'm going to go chat with the-the principal."

"But——"

"Uh, you!" Birdie's eyes widened, seeing the vice principal pointing at her. She raised her brows and pointed to herself, immediate dread coursing through her veins. "Yes, you. Uh, Ms. Sawyer, right? Come here for a moment, please."

"Fuck me gently with a chainsaw," Birdie grumbled, scrunching up her nose. She attempted to smooth down the front of her overalls, quickly fixing her expression as she got closer. Ezra huffed with obvious annoyance, rolling his eyes before he stole a look at his father as if to give a look that told him Birdie wouldn't be any help. Jordan noticed his son's expression, his green eyes raking over Birdie's appearance as if trying to gauge her. Morgan finally lifted her head, perking up just a little bit when spotted Birdie. "Uh, yes?" Birdie asked.

"Would you mind waiting here with Ms. Blaire and Mr. Zeffer and his son while I head inside for a few moments to find Principal Hayes?"

"Well, actually——"

"Perfect. Thank you!"

The vice principal quickly walked off, heading back inside the high school without waiting to hear Birdie's response. Birdie softly sighed, pursing her lips together as she finally faced Jordan. He looked about the same with some gray hairs peeking out from the sides, his hair swept to one side with a couple strays dangling on his forehead. He had some light stubble along his round jaw, stomach more round than flat as if he was beginning to get a beer belly. He wore a sharp black suit with matching shoes, an intensely shiny ring on his ring finger.

"Do I know you?" Jordan curiously wondered.

"This is Ms. Sawyer," Ezra grumbled, giving his dad a look. "She's our art substitute."

"Oh, the one who doesn't know how to properly dress?" Jordan asked, looking Birdie's outfit up and down. His grimace indicated that he didn't approve of the outfit. "I see that."

"She said she went to school with you, too," Ezra said.

Jordan furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to speak, but Birdie beat him to it. "May I ask what the issue is?" Birdie asked, folding her arms over her chest. She briefly glanced at Morgan and the girl's eyes darted elsewhere, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Morgan's a bitch," Ezra said, shooting the girl a glare. "She tore into me during lunch and made sure everyone could hear it."

Birdie raised her brows in surprise. "She did?"

Morgan twisted her lips, silently nodding her head when she faced Birdie.

Jordan scoffed, his eyes pinned on the young girl. "Oh, what? Now you're quiet?" Jordan stepped forward, nudging Morgan's shoulder. "Where's the confidence now?"

Birdie stepped forward, giving Jordan a warning glare. "Don't touch her."

"I can do whatever I want. This school is only still standing because I've inv——"

"I don't give a shit what you've done for this school," Birdie angrily interrupted, a sudden fire burning in her brown eyes. "Nothing gives you the right to touch someone else, especially a minor, might I remind you."

"Oh, don't be like that. You don't mind, Morgan——"

Jordan reached to touch her arm again, but Birdie balled her fist and punched him in the cheek. He yelped at the harsh impact and fell onto the grass, hand rubbing at his aching jaw.

"I've kicked your ass once before, Jordan," Birdie sneered, glaring down at him. "And I'll happily do it again since you still haven't learned your fucking lesson."

Jordan's eyes tripled in size, gawking back up at Birdie. That was when realization dawned on him. "Holy——Birdie? Is that really you?"

"Surprise, dickhead!"

"This is all your fuckin' fault, Morgan!" Birdie turned her head just in time to see Ezra rush at Morgan. But, to Birdie's surprise, Morgan raised her hand and struck Ezra in the cheek just like Birdie had with Jordan.

"Don't you dare touch my s——" Jordan clambered onto his feet and tried to move around Birdie to get to Morgan, but Birdie grabbed the back of his suit jacket and yanked him onto his ass. Ezra whimpered, scrambling onto his feet as more students started to exit the school. Morgan's eyes were wide, reeling in the fact she actually punched Ezra. But then, she started to grin.

"Fuck you, Ezra! Now you'll see how it feels!" Morgan angrily lifted her leg, kicking Ezra straight in the groin. Birdie winced, but then she started to smile as well. Morgan slowly turned her head towards Birdie, the two sharing a grin of approval.

"I'm gonna end both of you——"

Birdie just rolled her eyes and turned around. Without warning, Jordan grabbed some of Birdie's hair and pulled her against him. She hissed and gritted her teeth together, reaching up and grabbing the hair on the back of Jordan's neck. Jordan grunted and immediately let go of Birdie when she tugged. However, she kept her grip on him. She turned to face him and tightly held the back of his head, forcing him to look at her. More and more students had started to exit the school, forming a crowd to watch what was happening with Ezra and his father.

"I never liked you," Jordan sneered.

"I never liked you either, and neither did Sam and Dean," Birdie falsely smiled. Then she swung her first and punched him in the face. She let go of his hair, letting him fall back on the ground with a pitiful whimper slipping out of his mouth. She turned her head, smiling when she saw Morgan towering over Ezra. "Kicking their ass shouldn't be the go-to solution, but. . .sometimes it's necessary."

"That felt really good," Morgan breathed out.

"You! Stop right there!"

"Um, I gotta go, but Morgan, I am very proud of you."

"Wait, but Ms. Sawyer——"

Birdie quickly waved at Morgan and sprinted down the sidewalk just as the principal and vice principal finally returned. She hurried down the street without looking back, heart racing inside her chest from the adrenaline pumping through her entire body. She slipped into an alleyway a couple of blocks away and exited the other end, heavy pants passing through her lips.

It appeared she was behind a bar of some sorts, only a few cars parked out back. But, one of them would have to do if she wanted to find the boys before she got into trouble.

Her eyes skimmed over the cars, finally making her way towards a sedan. She gently tugged on the handle, rolling her eyes at the fact it was locked. She reached into one of her pockets, pausing when she felt her phone vibrate in another pocket. She quickly pulled it out and placed it to her ear. "Hey, Sammy."

"Hey, Bird. How'd it go at the school?"

"Uh, well. . .it went. . .good. . ."

"Why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me?"

"I might've seen Jordan again and punched him a few times. And, uh, the girl his son has been bothering, Morgan, kicked his son's ass, too."

"What?! Bird——"

"What did you boys find out from Dirks father?"

"It is Dirk," Dean answered, speaking over Sam when he tried getting more details about the fight. "His dad keeps a lock of Dirks' hair in his bible he leaves on the bus. We just left the bus yard and apparently the wrestling team is riding it back from a competition."

"But didn't we check the bus earlier——"

"They left right after we did. They're a few towns over at some semi-final thing, I guess," Dean said. "A different bus is gonna take the kids from the school home right now, so at least we don't have to worry about them."

"Okay. Uh, so what are you guys——"

"We got a plan. Sammy'll text you the street name."

"Alright, I'll see you boys in a bit then."

"Alright. Drive safe."

"You too."

With that, Birdie hung up and stuffed her phone in her pocket again. She felt around in one of her back pockets, smiling when she felt her lockpick set. She flicked it open and crouched down, skillfully unlocking the door. She smiled in relief as the it opened without making a sound and climbed inside. Then she reached under the steering wheel, managing to grab the wires and hotwire the car. She grinned as it started up, the front dash showing there was even a full tank of gas. Birdie pulled her phone out again and checked to see Sam already texted her the street name along with a general idea of how far down the street she would need to go. She pulled it up on a map on her phone, squinting to try and find the correct one. She finally saw it and nodded to herself, mentally making a route to follow. Once she did, she pocketed her phone again and buckled her seatbelt. Then, she backed out of the parking lot and took off in the direction of the boys.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been driving, but it felt like too long. She'd followed the right streets and checked the signs to make sure she wasn't about to pass it up. She was a little over half an hour away from the high school, less and less buildings and homes looking familiar to her as she traveled further away. She adjusted her grip on the steering wheel with a small sigh, easing her way around a sharp corner. The road didn't seem to be very popular, only a few cars passing by her in the opposite lane. She thought it was the same road they'd taken to reach the town, but now Birdie wasn't so sure anymore.

Are you sure you're going the right way?

"Yes," Birdie huffed.

I don't think you actually are.

"Felicity, would you please——"

Birdie's voice cut off when she saw a large bus parked in the opposite lane ahead. She tilted her head, eyes widening when she saw a man laid on the ground with a teenager in a red track suit beating on him. Two more men were near the bus on the ground, one rummaging through the others pockets as if frantically searching for something.

Wait, that's——

"Oh, fuck!"

The car skidded to an abrupt stop, the tires loudly squealing as it did so. Birdie hastily climbed out of the car, eyes darting between Sam and Dean. "Birdie, he's in the kid!" Sam shouted.

The kid, whom Dirk was currently possessing, stopped to look at her. "Birdie? You're still with them?" he scoffed out.

Birdie pursed her lips, taking a few cautious steps forward. She didn't want to hurt the teenager, but she didn't want Dirk to use him to kill Sam either.

Birdie rushed forward and picked up one of the shotguns filled with rocksalt, shooting the student in the chest with it. He was flung off of Sam, colliding with the pavement below. Sam gasped and scooted away from Dirk, sitting up on his elbows.

Dirk got back up sooner than Birdie was expecting and charged at her. Birdie gasped, clenching her eyes shut when he swiftly punched her. She grunted as her head snapped to the side, gritting her teeth as the pain seared through her jaw. Dean's eyes flickered between Birdie, Dirk, and the lighter, cursing to himself as the lighter refused to ignite.

Birdie rubbed at her jaw and stood up straight, glaring at Dirk. "You hit like a fuckin' bitch, Dirk," she snapped.

Dirk snarled and tried to rush at her, but Birdie raised the gun and hit him straight in the face with the butt of the gun. Birdie panted and stole a glance towards Dean, raising her brows with urgency. He finally lit the lock of hair, making the student scream as Dirk was ejected from his body and sent far, far away.

Birdie let out a breath of relief and tiredly tossed the gun on the ground. She turned her head, spotting all of the students and another teacher gawking from the windows in the bus. Birdie froze, her lips parting as she realized they just witnessed everything. "Hey, aren't you our new art sub?" one of the students wondered.

"Uh, in a sense," Birdie answered, shrugging her shoulders.

"Hey, is it true you guys are Jump Street?" another student asked.

Birdie's eyes immediately darted to Dean. He sheepishly smiled and shrugged in response. She momentarily closed her eyes, shaking her head.

Dean could handle explaining everything that just happened.

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

Birdie curiously leaned forward, softly smiling to herself when she saw Sam inside Mr. Wyatts' classroom.

It wasn't the brightest idea to go back to school once more after what happened the day before, but when Sam asked her to go with him to talk to their old English Studies teacher, she couldn't say no. They'd come in after the bell had already rang and students were in the second classes of the day. That meant the halls would most likely be empty, and they were. However, Sam went ahead when Birdie took a small detour to use the restroom; it was just her excuse to snoop around the school to see what happened with Ezra and Morgan after she left. And, according to a freshman——who only spoke to Birdie when they saw her walking in the hall and thought they would get in trouble for not having a hall pass——Ezra was pulled out of the school by his enraged father and Morgan was merely suspended for a week since it was her first time getting into trouble. There was even lots of gossip about everyone voting for her to be queen at the next dance. Birdie brightly smiled when she heard and wrote the student a note that excused them for being late to class.

Then Birdie carried on until she found Mr. Wyatt's classroom. She grabbed the handle and slowly opened the door, taking a small step inside. "Uh, hi," she said, offering Sam and Mr. Wyatt a warm smile. "Am I interrupting——"

"No, no, Bird, you're fine," Sam said, shaking his head as he cleared his throat.

Mr. Wyatt furrowed his brows, taking in Birdie's familiar appearance as she came to stand beside Sam. "Birdie. . .Birdie Fowler?"

Birdie faintly smiled, nodding her head.

Aw, he remembers you, too.

'Shut up.'

"So you two stuck together after all these years, huh?" Mr. Wyatt asked, his smile widening.

"It'd take a lot for him to get rid of me," Birdie said, stealing a glance up at Sam. He breathed out a laugh, playfully shaking his head at her.

Mr. Wyatt nodded his head. "That's wonderful. You two were together all the time."

"Yeah, we're-we're pretty inseparable," Sam lightly chuckled, offering Mr. Wyatt a faint smile. "Uh, we don't wanna take up anymore of your time. We were just in the area and thought we might stop by. . ."

"It was really good to see you, Mr. Wyatt," Birdie said.

"You two, both of you," Mr. Wyatt said, following them to the door. They stepped out into the hall and Mr. Wyatt stood in the doorframe, glancing between the two of them. "I wish you both the best."

"Thank you."

"You, too."

After that, they started to walk away side by side, but Mr. Wyatts' voice made them pause to look back. "Maybe it's none of my business but. . .are you two together?"

Birdie couldn't help but chuckle, stealing a glance at Sam. "Everyone thinks we are, but we're not."

Mr. Wyatt faintly smiled, nodding his head. "My apologies."

Birdie shrugged her shoulders. "Don't be."

Sam playfully rolled his eyes, giving her a light nudge that made Birdie laugh even louder. He and Birdie gave Mr. Wyatt a wave as they started to walk away again and he happily returned it. His eyes followed Sam and Birdie, letting out a content sigh once they left his sight. He always did like them.

Birdie stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket as they stepped out of the school, turning her head to look over at Sam. "You know, I hate to admit it, but I am kinda gonna miss those little shits."

Sam breathed out a laugh, catching Birdie's eye. "Seriously?"

Birdie's smile lingered on her lips as they drew closer to the Impala, Dean watching from inside to make sure neither of them had been stabbed by another ghost possessing one of the students. "Yeah," Birdie answered with a nonchalant shrug. "Just a few, though. The rest of 'em are dickheads that only know how to cause chaos."

"Chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling," Sam replied.

Birdie gaped at Sam, halting beside Baby. "Did you just make a fuckin' Heathers reference?"

Sam furrowed his brow, grabbing the handle of the passenger side door. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Birdie playfully rolled her eyes, flashing Sam a cheeky smile before she climbed inside the Impala. "How very."

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

Here is chapter 34!! I changed the year from 97 to 96 because it fit better! And I know it's nighttime when they stop Dirk at the end, but with the way the chapter went, it didn't really make sense for it to be night so I changed that as well! Hopefully y'all don't mind! I feel like some parts in the chapter were a little unnecessary, but I actually kinda like this chapter so I decided to keep it all include!!

And a BIG BIG BIG THANK YOU latte-to-go for helping with this chapter + writing some of it for me as well!! Girl, I seriously can't thank you enough for all of your help/support. 🫶

I would also like to mention that I skipped episode 11 (family remains) with the girl in the wall. it's set before the last chapter, but I forgot to include that in my note so I'm including it in here! And, if you're wondering why I skip it + make no mention of it is because I hate that episode and it freaks me out 😅.

But anyways, please don't forget to leave your feedback in the comments and i hope y'all enjoyed!