Sam Winchester adjusted his tie, trying to get comfortable in the stiff dress shirt that made him look more like a history teacher than a hunter. Dean, standing beside him in a worn leather jacket, smirked.
“You look like a nerd,” Dean said, straightening his own substitute teacher badge.
Sam shot him a look. “You know, if we’re supposed to be blending in, maybe don’t show up looking like a gym coach who sells used cars on the side.”
Dean scoffed, pulling his badge from his pocket and clipping it onto his jacket. “Coach Harper. Has a nice ring to it.”
The two brothers had tracked the latest string of Ghostface killings to Crestwood High, where a senior lock-in was being held that night. Multiple students had been found dead in the past month, all murdered in classic slasher style. But the real kicker? The survivors had been exhibiting strange behavior—paranoia, aggression, even unexplained bouts of violence. The Winchesters suspected hex infections, a supernatural mark that tied the victims to a legendary serial killers soul, Ghostface.
If they didn’t put a stop to it soon, more students would die… or worse, become vessels for the killer’s spirit.
The night started off normal enough. Students milled about the gym, playing dodgeball, chatting in corners, or sneaking off to dark hallways where they thought no one would find them. Teachers and chaperones wandered through the school, doing their best to keep the chaos in check.
Sam and Dean kept an eye on everything, blending in as much as two grown men at a high school event could.
Then, the first scream tore through the night.
A cheerleader named Madison stumbled into the gym, clutching her stomach. Blood seeped through her fingers, her face pale with shock.
“I-It was him. Help me…” she gasped before collapsing onto the floor.
Dean rushed to her side while Sam scanned the crowd. The students backed away in horror, whispering amongst themselves.
A group of faculty rushed over, yelling for an ambulance to be called. But Sam knew Madison wouldn’t make it. Not with wounds like that.
“What did you see?” Sam asked a nearby student who had been closest. The boy looked frozen in shock.
“T-The mask, and a knife” the boy stammered. “Ghostface.”
Sam and Dean exchanged a look. He was here.
Somewhere in this crowd, the killer was lurking. One of these kids, was the killer.
At the beginning of the night the principal, Ms. Holloway, ordered a full lockdown—nobody could leave until the morning. To ensure no students snuck out, she took all the cell phones and padlocked the main exits with thick chains, keeping the keys and phones in her possession.
But now, Ms. Holloway was missing, Madison was dead and they had no way to call the police or an ambulance. The kicker, they were all trapped in the school with a supernatural serial killer.
“Ms. Holloway has to be a part of it. Ghostface has his hooks in her. Why else would she trap all these kids in here?”
“Its an all night school event full of hyper emotional teenagers Dean. How else is she gonna keep them from running off?”
“Well now none off us is going anywhere and the only one who’s ran off is her.” Dean said irritatedly.
Panic set in as students realized they were completely cut off from the outside world. The remaining faculty was doing their best to keep order.
Sam and Dean pulled aside a few key students bringing them one by one into an empty classroom. Ones they knew had survived previous attacks. A trio of them—Noah, a horror movie fanatic; Lisa, the school newspaper editor; and Brian, a quiet but observant artist—had each narrowly escaped confrontations with Ghostface in the past.
“He doesn’t just kill,” Lisa said, her voice shaking. “He plays with you. Gets in your head. He called me on my cell. Told me I was going to slaughter me, slowly and painfully. But he also said there was a way out. He said if I killed myself instead it wouldn’t hurt as much. It was so hard not to listen, it all felt so true. And so, I tried—” She cut herself off, looking away.
Brian, who hadn’t said much, finally spoke. “I think he’s someone we know.”
Dean leaned forward. “What makes you say that?”
Brian hesitated, then pulled out his sketchbook. He flipped past pages of eerie drawings until he stopped on one. It was a detailed sketch of a guy.
“Team Captain?” Sam said, reading the title below the portrait.
Lisa paled. “Thats Caleb.”
Noah shook his head. “No way. He’s practically a saint. Straight A’s, perfect attendance. All star athlete. Everyone loves him.”
“You both know, he wasn’t always like that,” Brian muttered. “He used to be different. Before Caleb got hurt last year, he was a bully. Arrogant. Mean. Cocky. He treated me and my friends like crap. Called us freak shows. Then one day, he changed.”
Dean frowned. “You said he was hurt. How? Attacked?”
“Basketball injury,” Lisa said. “Tore his ACL, lost his chance at a college scholarship. He kind of… spiraled. Took two weeks off. Then came back a different guy. Not as good an athlete. But better in every other way. So the coach decided to keep him on as captain.”
Sam and Dean exchanged another look. They’d seen it before. Manipulative spirits often latched onto the vulnerable. If the depressed jock was possessed by Ghostface’s spirit, he could have twisted Caleb into being a perfect student to cover up his serial killer urges. Text book psycho.
And if they were right, the body count was far from over.
Sam quickly found Caleb. While hanging out with his teammates he seemed totally normal. Until he broke away saying he needed to hit the bathroom. Sam kept his distance, watching Caleb as he walked right past the bathroom. The teen athlete sat on a wooden bench in the boys locker room, gripping the cell phone he had stashed in his locker like it was his lifeline. The dim fluorescent lights flickered slightly, casting eerie shadows against the rows of dented metal lockers.
“Why aren’t you texting me back? Pick up the phone….”
Caleb’s fingers tapped frantically against the screen as texted, and called the same number over and over.
When Sam finally spoke, his voice was calm but firm.
“Who are you trying to call?”
Caleb nearly jumped out of his skin. His panicked eyes shot to Sam before he clutched the phone to his chest. “No one,” he said, but the crack in his voice told another story.
Sam stepped forward. “Doesn’t look like no one.”
Caleb hesitated, then nodded. His chest rose and fell in rapid breaths. “Uhhh, just my mom. She’s not answering. She always answers.”
Sam extended a hand. “Let me see the phone.”
“No.”
“Caleb.”
“I said no! Back off!” Caleb shoved Sam’s arm away.
Sam didn’t want to do this the hard way, but Caleb’s erratic behavior left him no choice. He grabbed for the phone, but Caleb twisted, trying to keep it out of reach. The scuffle quickly escalated—Caleb, despite his athletic frame, Caleb was not in any condition to fight. Sam maneuvered easily, tripping him with a well-placed sweep and pinning him against the bench. Caleb let out a grunt, struggling for a few seconds before finally going still. He was obviously still weakened by his past injury.
Sam picked up the phone and checked the call log. Dozens of missed calls—all to Jessica Holloway.
Sam recognized the name. She was the principal's niece and the class president. Beautiful, popular, young. She seemed like she had it all.
Caleb groaned beneath him. “I just… I just wanted to make sure she was okay. She needs me.” His voice cracked. “Something’s weirds going on between her and the principal. Jessica hasn’t been the same because of it.”
That’s when it clicked. Caleb couldn’t be the killer. With his injury there was no way he could pull it off. If anything he might be another victim, trapped in Ghostface’s web without even realizing it.
But Deans theory that Ms. Holloway was a pawn was starting to fit together. Sam had to make sure.
Meanwhile, Dean leaned against the bleachers, enjoying the attention of Ms. Lane, the stunning and brilliant science teacher. She twirled a pen between her fingers, her brown eyes locked on his.
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“So, Dean,” she said, playfully tilting her head. “If we survive this whole masked murder situation, what are you gonna be up to. No offense but substitute doesn’t seem like your real job?”
Dean smirked. “Oh, you know, when I’m not secretly being a badass superhero, I enjoy motivational speaking. Teaching kids to not be dorks—”
The scream cut him off.
His head snapped toward the center of the gym just in time to see the flash of a black cloak weaving through the chaos. A student stumbled forward, hands clutching his stomach, blood soaking through his hoodie. Then another—a teacher—collapsed with a gurgled gasp, a deep gash torn across her throat.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean hissed, reaching for his gun.
Panic erupted. Students screamed, scattering like dominoes. Ghostface slashed wildly, his hunting knife gleaming under the gym lights.
Dean shoved Ms. Lane behind him and aimed but their were too many kids stills. Dean bolted as gay as he could into the crowd but the killer vanished, dipping behind fleeing students.
Sam burst into the gym just as Dean lost sight of him. “Where is he?”
Dean gritted his teeth, scanning the chaos. “I had him. He just—”
A door slammed in the distance. Sam took off in pursuit.
Sam crashed through the boys’ restroom door just in time to see the shadowed figure duck into a stall. He approached carefully, his gun trained forward.
Dean came in behind him, breathless. “You got him trapped?”
Sam nodded. “Unless he plans on flushing himself down.”
Dean smirked and got into a stance. Sam hung back gun aimed at the door. With one solid kick, the stall door slammed open.
Nothing.
The stall was empty.
“Are you kidding me?” Dean muttered, stepping forward. No mask, no costume. No killer. Just a dirty toilet full of water.
Sam’s stomach twisted. “He’s playing with us.”
Dean ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident as he and Sam stepped out of the bathroom. Ghostface had disappeared—again. Just vanished.
“Alright, so let’s go over this one more time,” Dean said as they made their way down the dimly lit hall.
Sam exhaled sharply. “Caleb’s not the killer. He’s been trying to call Jessica all night, panicking because she hasn’t answered. When I confronted him, he freaked out, and we fought. He’s still struggling with his injury, which means he’s got no chance of being Ghostface.”
Dean gave a skeptical look. “You sure he’s not faking? You kicked his ass, and you're not quite walker texas ranger Sammy.”
Sam shot him a glare. Then decided to ignore the jab. “Trust me. He’s just another pawn in this whole thing.”
They turned a corner, reaching the gym where most of the students and faculty had gathered after the attack. The survivors were shaken, some bandaged from minor injuries, others sobbing quietly in the corners. The air was thick with fear.
Dean made his way to each of them doing what he could to help while Sam dealt with Caleb.
Caleb sat on the bleachers, head in his hands, still trembling from their earlier fight. Sam approached one of the teachers—a balding, nervous-looking man in a sweat-stained button-up.
“Listen,” Sam said in a hushed voice. “We caught Caleb trying to slip out of the school. I don’t think he’s in a good headspace. Keep an eye on him. Don’t let him leave.”
The teacher’s eyes widened. “You think he’s dangerous?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Sam replied. “Just make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
Dean made his way back toward Sam. “Alright, let’s talk about Principle Holloway again. Here’s the thing—what if she wasn’t just a victim? What if she was compromised?”
Sam crossed his arms. “You’re thinking possession?”
Dean shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen someone get puppeted by something nasty. Jessica’s gone missing, and we both know this Ghostface thing doesn’t just pop up for no reason. She could’ve found out what her aunt was involved in and tried to stop it.”
Sam’s jaw tightened. “Which means if she’s still alive, she’s in serious trouble.”
Dean turned toward Ms. Lane, who was standing near a table, looking like she was grading a stack of papers. He grinned. “Well, lucky for us, we’ve got a tech genius on hand.”
Sam followed his gaze. “You think she can track Jessica’s phone?”
Dean smirked. “Only one way to find out.”
Ms. Lane barely glanced up when Dean approached. “ Hey handsome. I’m knee deep in papers but it’s better than watching one of my coworkers getting gutted like a fish.”
Dean leaned against the table. “Yeah, rough night for everybody. Listen, I need a favor.”
She arched a brow. “I’m flattered, and interested, but your timing is really off.”
Dean chuckled. “Not that kind of favor. We need to track a phone. But you can’t ask any questions. Think you can do that?”
Ms. Lane finally looked up, her interest piqued. “Whose?”
“I said not, to ask questions.”
Sam held out Caleb’s phone. “Jessica Holloway’s. It’s the last number dialed.”
She took the phone and examined it. “You guys do realize school-issued WiFi blocks most tracking apps, right?”
Dean smirked. “Yeah, but something tells me you’re smart enough to work around that.”
Ms. Lane exhaled sharply but cracked her knuckles, taking it as a challenge. “Alright, let’s see what we can do.”
She connected to the WiFi on the phone and began downloading apps, her fingers flying over the touch screen as she accessed various programs. The device beeped, and she frowned. “Her phone’s still on, which is good. But the signal’s weak.”
“Can you pinpoint it?” Sam asked.
Ms. Lane typed furiously. “Give me a second… There! It’s inside the school. Looks like it’s—” Her face paled. “Oh, hell.”
Dean tensed. “Where?”
Ms. Lane turned the screen toward them. A blinking red dot flashed ominously on the auditorium stage.
Sam and Dean exchanged a look.
“Well,” Dean muttered, rolling his shoulders. “Guess it’s showtime.”
Caleb’s phone led them straight to the auditorium. The massive space was eerily quiet, the stage bathed in dim, flickering light.
In the center of the stage, Principal Holloway sat tied to a chair, her face a bloodied mess. Deep cuts lined her arms, her once-pristine blouse stained dark red.
Standing beside her, Jessica Holloway.
The golden girl of Crestwood High looked the same as ever—except for the upset, scared look in her eyes. Her phone was still clutched in her hand. She turned to see the guys coming.
“What the hell?” Dean said astonished.
“Is that principal Holloway? She’s been tortured...”Sam says.
“Oh please! Help my aunt. I just happened to find her like this,” Jessica said, voice trembling. “I—”
Sam raised his gun. “Cut the act. We know.”
Jessica’s expression didn’t falter. “You know? Know what? Can’t you see we need help here?”
Dean took a step forward. “We know you’re the one carving people up, Ghostface.”
Jessica’s lips trembled as if she was gonna break down in tears, until it curled into a slow, unnatural smile. She started to laugh. And then—she changed.
Her frame shifted, her shoulders growing more broad and she got slightly taller. Her body type definitely fit more like Caleb’s masculine one then her small feminine petite one. Her voice dropped into something deeper, darker and distorted. The air in the room grew thick with the scent of blood and copper. The innocent girl morphed into the cloaked specter of the Ghostface killer.
Jessica—no, Ghostface—tilted its head. “You boys are smart. But you’re still too late.”
For a long, chilling moment, she paced slowly along the stage before launching into a monologue. Her tone was eerie and confident as she revealed the twisted truth behind her transformation. “My life was perfect—or so I thought. My parents were supposed to be the picture of a happy family until everything shattered. You see, my mom and dad were getting a divorce. I never understood why until I discovered that Principal Holloway, my mom’s sister, had slept with my dad. That betrayal ruined everything, tore apart the foundation of my world. I just wanted us to be a family again. So when my mom bought an exquisite set of knives from an estate store, I thought maybe I could fix things.”
Her eyes burned with a bitter intensity as she continued, “One night, while helping her cook, we got into an argument. I only wanted her to give my dad another chance, but my hand slipped and I cut my finger. It was nothing—just a simple accident. But no one knew that the knife had a previous owner… a murderous one. From that cut, Ghostface was reborn. I, was reborn.”
“More like it crawled up your ass like a parasite.” Dean said sarcastically.
“This is my power, And I’m having way too much fun with it. I’m never giving it up.” Ghostface sneered, lifting the blade. “Time to die boys.”
Ghostface moved like a shadow leaping off the stage.
Dean fired as the killer suddenly blurred. The bullet whizzed through empty air. One second she was in front of them, the next she was gone, ducking behind the red velvet auditorium seats.
Sam barely had time to react before Ghostface reappeared behind them, striking out.
Her knife slashed Sams shoulder—he cursed, staggering back, blood soaking through the fabric of his shirt.
Dean tackled the killer, both of them crashing into the stage. Ghostface was fast, unnaturally so. She twisted, elbowing him in the ribs, then pushed him unnaturally hard, throwing him off.
Sam pulled out a knife and lunged. “Dean you ok?”
Jessica dodged him, vanished the reappeared several rows away.
Dean rubbed the back of his head. “I hate it when these bastards can teleport. It’s like cheating in a race! Who does that!?”
As the chaotic melee continued, Sam’s mind raced. Amid the desperate, fluid struggle, the winchester boys were clearly losing. Ghostface was too stealthy. But after what had happened in the bathroom Sam planned for just this situation. With a quick whistle, he signaled to Dean. “Time for plan b!” he shouted over the din.
Dean’s eyes flickered with understanding. “Got it.” he responded, Running back towards the entrance.
Ghostface appeared in the seat above Dean blade raised to attack but Sam fired twice and Ghostface disappeared again.
Dean opened the auditorium doors and pulled two backpacks in. He tossed one to Sam. Each was filled with coarse, glistening rock salt.
“Let’s even the odds.” Sam stated. In unison, the brothers began hurling handfuls of the abrasive crystals all across the theater’s ornate seats and floors. The effect was almost immediate—the killer appeared out of the shadows staggered, her movements suddenly sluggish, as if the salt was sapping the energy that fueled her evasion, and supernatural speed.
Enraged, Ghostface let out a distorted shriek as she recoiled, her form blurring once more. In that moment of weakness, she dashed toward the stage at the far end of the auditorium—where, to their horror, Principal Holloway lay bound and battered on a creaking prop chair. In a final, desperate attempt to complete her reign of terror, she aimed a knife at the principal.
“She’s going for Holloway!” Sam warned.
Dean reacted instinctively. “Not gonna happen!” he bellowed, firing his gun. Three shots rang out, echoing through the silent, terrified space. The bullets struck Ghostface knocking her down just as she neared Principal Holloway, her arm stretched out, blade in hand. With a final, shuddering gasp, the killer’s form wavered and began to disintegrate into smoky wisps of shadow and dark ash.
Even as her body collapsed, she flipped over onto her back. Ghostface’s voice emerged in a cold, taunting whisper: “You may have won, but mark my words—I always come back.” she said in coughing laugh. “And I’m gonna remember this when I possess another miserable teenager. You just wait. I’m gonna slice you both apart. That’s a promise.”
“Yeah good luck with that.” Dean said smirking.
“Actually you won’t be coming back anytime soon.” Sam explained. “All of the students you marked with your blade are protected. And without any hosts your hex infection won’t work.’
The body of Ghostface extinguished and only the corps of Jessica Holloway was left, wearing a plastic ghost mask. A heavy silence fell over the auditorium, leaving behind a mixture of relief and dread. Sam and Dean moved quickly, checking on Principal Holloway, who, though heavily injured, was alive. They brought the principal out while the staff and students gathered around, murmuring in relief and disbelief.
Principal Holloway woke up in a stupor.
“Oh! Oh god. Watch out for Ghostface. He had me! That bastard tortured me. We have to get away!” She yelled in a state of delirium and shock. Sam and Dean already used Caleb’s phone to call the police and decided to let the staff deal with getting Holloway to reveal where the keys to the chains were.
Dean stepped forward, a wry smile breaking through his exhaustion. “Great idea there Sammy with the Rocksalt and the holy sigils. Everyone that Ghostface attackeed, is safe after I placed holy sigils on them.
Sam offered a tired nod, his gaze lingering on the marked arms of the survivors. “This night’s far from over, but at least for now, Crestwood High is secure.”
As the adrenaline faded, the brothers exchanged a look that conveyed both relief and the weight of the battle they know lay ahead. They had defeat a darkness presence. It had slithered into the heart of a young girl—and in defeating it, they had saved countless lives. But as Ghostface’s final, sinister promise echoed in their minds, they knew that the fight against such an evil was never truly finished. At some point the killer would return again. And next time it would be thirsty for Winchester blood.