We all scrambled out of the house and outside to the driveway. I stopped before I got to the car, admiring how beautiful 'Baby' really looked. "Wow," I say under my breath.

  "What?" Dean asks, stopping next to me. Sam and Becky walk past us, getting into the car. Sam gets in the passenger seat and Becky crawls in back.

  "She looks even nicer in person. It's a beautiful car," I say. He really did keep good care of the Impala, and it shined like it was brand new.

  Dean smiles. "Yeah, she is," he agrees, nodding. "C'mon, we got some bones t' burn." I follow him to the car and hop in back with Becky, as Dean climbs in front. I lean my head against the seat and close my eyes, letting the purr of Dean's Impala slighty calm me down as he drives to the cemetery.

  When we got to the cemetery I directed Dean where to drive, remembering the trip my class had taken here. It was about two in the morning by now, making the graveyard deep dark, illuminated only by the light of the moon and Dean's headlights.

  As we got out of the Impala, Sam handed Becky and I an iron rod and a flashlight. Dean pulled two shovels, lighter fluid and a big can of salt out of the trunk. We split up to look for the correct grave, Sam with me and Becky with Dean.

  I scanned the names on the grave markers as we walked through the dark cemetery. "I'm sorry about your mom," Sam says quietly, looking at the stones.

  "Um. Thanks..." I reply.

  "How ya' holdin' up?" he asks, looking at me with concern.

  "I dunno. Right now I can only think about lighting the son of a bitch up," I add. "I'm definitely not going to get over it soon, but I need to stay focused. Crying isn't going to bring my mom back, nothing will... but I gotta do this."

  Sam nods. "Yeah... that makes sense. I know this can be hard, especially since you were probably close to her, and you're just a kid- no offense... you seem to be taking it better than most people would, well, as best as can be expected anyway."

  "Yeah, I guess," I shrug. My eyes stung from wanting to cry; partly from sadness, and partly from a burning anger towards the spirit who took my mother from me. "Hey, I found it," I say, looking up at Sam.

  "Hey guys! Nicole found 'im," Sam yells into the darkness.

  Grass rustled as Dean and Becky jogged over to Mr. Collins' grave. "Sonuvabitch!" Dean mutters as he trips over a stone. He stands up rubbing the back of his head and picking up the shovels. He walks over, frowning, and hands a shovel to Sam.

  Becky and I held the flashlights as the brothers dug up the grave. A cracking sound was heard as one of the shovels hit the top of the coffin. The boys moved more dirt out of the way, off the lid, before crawling out and prying it off. "Ew," I say, seeing what time had done to Leonard Collins' decomposing body.

  "I'm gonna be sick," Becky grumbles, looking away from the former teacher's decaying corpse. Dean shook his head, pouring salt and then lighter fluid into the ditch. Sam pulled out a box of matches and was about to light one, when he paused with the box of potential flames in his large hands. "What are you waiting for?" Becky asks.

  Sam turns to me and hands me the box. The corner of his mouth turns up slightly in a knowing smile, and I smile back gratefully. "I thought you might wanna do the honors," he says. I nodded.

  Lighting the match, I step forward to the edge of the ditch and drop the match in. The corpse went up in flames, and I felt a weight being lifted off of my shoulders as we watched the fire crackle in the six-foot ditch in front of us.