Our Baggage

At the edge of the woods near the school, Sam bandages Ashley's wound, while Dean fishes three beers out of the cooler.

"That ghost is dead," he mutters. "I'm gonna rip it's lungs out!"

Ashley and Sam look at him.

"...You know what I mean," he grumbles.

"We salted and burned Barry's remains," says Ashley. "It must not've been him." They sit in silence, until a thought occurs to her. "I remember reading something about spirits attaching themselves to things and people, and moving around. What did all the kids who were possessed have in common?"

Dean flips through a folder. "They all rode the same bus."

"So the bus is possessed?" asks Sam.

"Spirits can't leave the place they're attached to," says Dean.

"Unless they can," Ashley and Sam say together.

"There's lore about ghosts attaching themselves to people and riding them for miles," Sam continues.

"So the ghost waits on the bus," says Ashley, "possesses a kid and walks into the school."

"Super," mutters Dean.

~~~

The trio is scanning the bus for EMF, and as they don't find anything in the seats, the collective mood drops to discouragement.

"It could be anything," says Dean. "All the ghost needs is a tiny scrap of DNA to connect it to the bus. Could be as small as a flake a skin."

"We'll find it," says Ashley.

Dean moves to the front of the bus and starts rifling through the driver's possessions. "New driver permit, issued two weeks ago."

"Right before the attacks," says Ashley.

"Yep. Dirk MacGregor Senior."

"MacGregor?" asks Sam.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I knew his son."

Dean gives him a tired look. "You know everybody at this school?"

~~~

Ashley sits by Sam and Dean, looking around the dusty, dimly lit room. Across from them, Dirk MacGregor Senior, an old man with white hair and haunted eyes, sits tiredly.

"You were friends of Dirk's?" he asks.

"Yeah," Sam answers. "We knew him in high school."

"Dirk didn't have many friends."

"We weren't there for all four years," says Ashley. "So, um...we didn't know he passed until recently. How old was he?"

"Eighteen."

"What happened?"

"Alcohol, drugs.... Too many drugs. I lost control of him. I should have paid more attention.... School was real tough for him."

"Tough?" asks Sam.

"People bullied him. Hurt him. Even had a nickname for him. Dirk the Jerk."

Ashley sees Sam wince in her peripheral. It seems that the good deed he did for Barry, in addition to not helping him, destroyed Dirk. But can they really feel bad for him? He contributed to the chain of events that led to Barry's suicide, and if Sam hadn't dethroned him, Dirk probably would have tortured others like Barry.

"I'm afraid his life at home wasn't so easy, either," MacGregor continues. "Dirk's mom died of cancer when he was thirteen. He took such good care of her, never complained. Made sure she took her medicine, cleaned up after her.... I wish I could've helped more. But I had to work, you see."

"I, uh..." starts Sam, wringing his hands, "I didn't know about his mom."

Ashley sits close to him, placing a hand on his arm.

"He never talked about it. Suffered in silence. It really messed him up.... A person can't go through that, watching someone die a slow, agonizing death, and be okay after. Especially a kid.

He had alot a anger in him."

This definitely wrings some sympathy out of Ashley, but not enough for her to be sorry that Sam beat up Dirk. The boy didn't have to take out his pain on others. He chose to do that.

"Um...where was he buried?" asks Dean.

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

"Did you keep anything of his?" asks Ashley. "You know, to remember him by?"

"I kept a lock of his hair."

"Oh, that's lovely. My mother did the same when her sister died." She shares a fake melancholy smile with MacGregor. "Where do you keep it?"

"On my bus."

"Ah, of course."

~~~

After watching the school bus run over the spikes in the road, Sam approaches the vehicle as the driver deboards. "Dirk!"

He slowly turns to face him. "Winchester. What are you donna do? Shoot me?"

"...Don't need to."

Dean catches Dirk from behind with ropes slung to hold his arms to his body.

"Those ropes are soaked with salt water," Sam informs the struggling man. "Dirk, you're not goin' anywhere."

Dean secures the ropes before bounding onto the bus. Ashley stays hidden like the brothers asked her to, itching to join in.

"It's not here!" Dean shouts through the door.

Sam slams Dirk back against the bus. "Where is it?!" he demands, pointing the gun in his face.
"Sam Winchester, still a bully after all these years. The jocks, the popular kids. You all think you're better than everybody else. Better than me. I was nothing to you. Just Dirk the Jerk. You evil fuckers are gonna get what you deserve."

"...I'm not evil, Dirk," Sam replies, lowering his gun. "I'm not. And neither were you. We were scared, and we were miserable, and we took it out on eachother. It gets so much better, Dirk. And I wish you'd stuck around to see that."

"Nothin's gonna get better for me. Never." Dirk breaks the ropes and comes at Sam, who shoots him twice. The body falls to the ground, and the fact that this means an innocent man is dead makes Ashley sick.

A boy exits the bus, and attacks Sam. Dean comes to his aid, and Sam shouts at him to find the hair. He ignores his brother, struggling to pull Dirk off of him. Ashley runs out from her hiding place to the three fighting men, where she searches Dirk for the hair while the brothers restrain him. Seeing the kids on the bus watching her, she smiles and says, "Don't worry, boys. Just robbin' him." She finds the hair in his boot, takes out her lighter and sets the lock on fire.

The ghost is gone, and Dean stands, looking down at the jock's unconscious body on top of Sam. "I don't think he's legal for that position you're doin' there, Sam."

Ashley laughs as Dean rolls the boy off of Sam and helps him to his feet.

~~~

Sam opens the door walks hesitantly into his old teacher's classroom. The man turns his head and takes off his glasses. "Yes," he asks.

"You probably don't remember me, but I'm Sam Winchester. I went here for a little while and, I had your class. You gave me some advice."

"Winchester," he replies, jabbing a finger in the air at him as he stands. "Yes, you wrote that Horror story! Good to see you again, Sam." He grasps one of Sam's hands in both of his, and steps back again. "Tell me, um, what was that memorable advice I gave you?" Chuckling softly, he adds, "My memory has gotten a bit fuzzy with age."

Sam can tell that the man is just as warm and genuine as he was back then. "You told me I shouldn't go into the family business, that I should follow my dreams, do what makes me happy."

"Ah, and, did you follow those dreams, son?"

"For awhile. Went to college. But, things came up, and I had to be an adult about it. But I'm gonna go back. The point is, you cared about me when no on else did, and that matters. Alot."
He nods, his creased face telling Sam that he understands all of that completely. "All that matters to me is that you're happy. Are you happy, Sam?"

He looks him in the eye, thinking on that one, simple question for longer than he should have to. "Yeah." Nodding, he says, "Yeah, when it comes down to it, I am happy."

He smiles and nods. "Good. I'm happy for you, Sam." He shakes his hand again, and bids Sam farewell. Before the door closes, he says, "Please, take care of yourself, Sam."

He pauses and looks at him over his shoulder. "I will. You, too." Sam lets the door shut, and smiles at Ashley, who stands leaning back against the lockers, waiting for him. "Hey."

"Hey."

He crosses the hall as she stands up straight, takes her hand, and they walk out of the school. No words are needed.