AN: Surprise! I know what you're thinking. What is she doing starting another story? Well, I can assure you all that this story is all finished and it won't be taking away from any of my other stories. I just thought that since ''slower, slower'' was obviously not going to be totally completed by Halloween, that I'd write a backup Halloween story. One that could actually be posted on Halloween. So I sat down and wrote this really quickly. And when I say really quickly, I mean it. Like...I was not aware I could write that fast. It startled me.

By the way, the reason I haven't updated ''slower, slower'' in so long is because I hit a bit of a roadblock. Have no fear, the story isn't abandoned or anything, I have just discovered it's not so easy writing from Piper's POV, plus some real life issues kind of forced me to take a break from writing for a little bit. But yeah, I've moved past the hump and things are looking up. I'm back to work on ''ss'' and hope to get a new chapter up sometime in the near future. But in the meantime, I present you with this story!

So I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter titles taken from the novel ''Alice In Wonderland'' by Lewis Carroll.


Title: Rabbit Hole
Summary: October, 2010: Dean Winchester comes out of retirement to take on a case that could have drastic future consequences. Lila Bray 'verse. Threeshot.
Pairing(s): Dean/Ruby. Surprise Guest/Surprise Guest.
Characters: Dean, Ruby, little bit of Bobby, Lila Bray, and one other surprise guest.
Genre: Family/Suspense
Rating: T
Timeline: Takes place in October of 2010 - during the year in betweens seasons five and six.
Spoilers: Spoilers for all of the SPN seasons, but mostly for seasons six and seven.
Warnings: Dude, there is some pretty heavy gore in part one. I was so excited to finally be writing some horror/gore-ishness that I might have gotten a little bit carried away. There is also some mentions of character death (non-canon and canon) and some brief implications of rape in part two.
Dedication: Once again, I'm going to dedicate this to all of my readers as a Halloween trick or treat present. Happy Halloween, ghosts and ghouls!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.


Rabbit Hole

Written by Becks Rylynn


Part One

''Curiouser and curiouser''

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''Dean, come on, it's Halloween. Don't do this now.''

The pleading tone in Ruby's voice does nothing to deter Dean as he crams a glinting blade into the duffel bag on the bed. He's got his mouth set in a determined line and a loaded pistol in the waistband of his jeans. There is no way he's turning back now. It's not like it's a big deal, anyway. It's just one tiny measly hunt. It's not like he's going to shift right back into old patterns, living in motels and spending his days in the Impala. That life is over for him. He is all too aware of that. This is a onetime deal, for old time's sake and because he's been feeling much too restless lately. It is one hunt and he makes sure to tell her that.

''I know it's Halloween, Ruby, and I promise I'll be back in time to see Lila Bray in her Alice in Wonderland costume, all right? But I need to - ''

''You don't need to do this, Dean,'' she protests grimly. ''You want to. There's a difference.''

Dean sighs heavily, hefting the bag onto his shoulder with one hand and snatching up the newspaper off the bed with the other. ''Bobby asked me to check this out real quick,'' he lies easily, brushing past her to get to the door.

''Liar,'' she hisses, spinning on her heel to chase after him. ''Bobby didn't ask you to do anything,'' she sniffs. ''He told me you were the one who asked him to look into the missing girls. Dean!'' When he doesn't stop, continuing to walk his steady path down the hall, she speeds up and dances in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. ''Dean, what are you doing?'' She asks desperately. ''We're supposed to be retired.''

''Ruby, it's not that easy.''

''It is that easy! It has to be that easy!'' Her eyes flash and she jabs a bony finger into his chest. ''This isn't what we want for her! This isn't what Sam wanted for her. Dean, he told us... He made us promise - ''

He flinches away from her touch when she goes to graze her fingertips across his cheek, green eyes growing cold under her gaze. ''Sam can't say shit about what I do anymore,'' he fires back at her, emotionlessly. ''He's dead.''

She reels back as if she's been punched, folding herself right back into that safe little cocoon she has made for herself over the past few months. The knife in his chest that he can't get out, won't get out, digs a little deeper. Shame washes over him in waves and he sighs once more. ''Listen,'' he lowers his voice, cupping her cheek gently. She inhales sharply, lips pursing, but she does not pull away. Progress. He does all he can possibly do to stop thinking about Sam. ''It's one case. I don't even know if it's supernatural yet. It could...'' He shrugs and tries to offer her a smile, but it feels forced and it doesn't last long. ''It could be nothing. I'm just going to do a little recon. Just this once.''

She doesn't look the least bit convinced; he can't particularly blame her. ''You know what happens when people in the movies say they're just going to do a little recon?'' She asks. ''They die, Dean. Horribly. There's lots of blood.''

His lips twitch. ''Ruby, seriously, you have got to spend less time on Netflix.''

She closes her eyes and leans into his touch for about half a second, before she sucks in a breath and jerks away from him, eyes narrowing at him. ''Just...'' She rakes one hand through her hair, which is not as blond as it used to be, darkened to a dirty blond, a change she made after Sam... ''Be careful,'' she orders, meeting his eyes. She splays her hands out across his chest. ''And be back before sundown, okay?''

He nods and drops a quick kiss to the side of her head. ''I won't be long,'' he promises, and hopes it will be a promise he can keep.

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1:20 pm, Mikail's Pub

The three women who have gone missing from Sioux Falls range in age from twenty two to thirty one. The first one vanished back in July, an unfortunate mystery that people felt bad about but eventually wrote off as an isolated incident. Her name was Judy Richardson, she was going to school up in New York, studying to be a pediatrician, and she was home for summer vacation, visiting her parents and younger sister. She was a conventionally pretty young girl, twenty two, skinny and blonde with a sweet smile and a gleam in her eyes. The second girl to go missing was Zoe Combs, a twenty seven year old photographer with an upcoming wedding, all dark, sultry eyes and pouty lips, who disappeared without a trace in mid September, reigniting the fear felt after Judy went missing. And then there was Natasha Eames, a thirty one year old real estate agent who had just moved back to her hometown of Sioux Falls to be closer to her ailing grandfather. She had a type of classic beauty that rivaled Bette Davis and she was a single mother. Her little boy was only a few years older than Bray. She was stolen away two days ago.

These are all sad facts. (Dean has done his research. It's just like old times.) But the thing that unnerves him the most is what he sees in their eyes. Their faces are splattered all over the local newspaper and on missing posters all around town and Dean can't help but notice the glint in their eyes. These girls were tough, fierce, strong. He knows this. He knows because he's seen that glint before, he sees it every day inside Ruby's eyes.

He's willing to bet that when these women were taken, they fought like hell.

Whoever - whatever - took these women away? It's going down bloody.

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.

.

The one common denominator in the case is the fact that all three women were last seen at Mikail's Pub. Judy was out with her old high school friends, Zoe was at her bachelorette party, and Natasha was at her work Halloween party.

Dean can believe in a lot of things, but he can't believe in coincidences.

The sports bar is buzzing with activity when he gets there. The regular customers are chowing down on burgers on their lunch breaks and watching sports highlights from what looks like the 80s on the big screen televisions and employees are rushing to put up last minute decorations for the Halloween party later tonight. It's bustling inside, but the manager, a heavyset bald man in his late forties, is more than willing to share any information he has about the missing women, tut-tutting sympathetically as he alternates between barking orders at his little worker bees and spouting off unbelievably unhelpful information about the girls. (Judy seemed like your stereotypical college girl who binged on tequila, Zoe drank dirty martinis and laughed a lot, and Natasha stuck to water and struck up a friendship with the bartender.)

It's an unfortunate lead that leads nowhere.

Dean stops off to talk to the bartender Natasha befriended and then declares Mikail's a bust.

Maybe it isn't supernatural, he thinks as he leans against his truck in the cool fall air, looking down at the faces smiling up at him from the newspaper. Maybe it's just some random wackjob. A good, incredibly probable explanation. Not every evil is supernatural, you know. Except that his spidey senses are tingling and it is never just a random wackjob. He is seconds away from having to drag himself to the library to do some actual research (the part Sam always used to have covered) when he looks straight ahead, catches sight of a old, weathered looking warehouse, and the alarms scream in his head.

Ah, yes.

Of course.

It's always a fugly looking warehouse, isn't it?

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.

.

Mikail's Pub is located in a fairly industrial part of down, right on the outskirts of the downtown strip. There are lots of warehouses. This one has bad vibes. He feels it the second he lays eyes on the damn place.

Dean keeps one hand on his gun as he moves silently through the worn down building. When he steps inside, he knows he's in the right (or wrong, depending on how you look at it) place. The place reeks of death, the pungent smell of blood and decay permeating everything it touches. He tries not to make any noise as he creeps through, but when he begins to climb a precarious, ancient looking set of stairs, the wood groans loudly under his weight. He winces and stops, looking over his shoulder. The disconcerting silence gets to him and he draws his gun just in case, keeping it lowered as he quickly climbs the rest of the stairs.

As soon as he gets to the top of the stairs, he freezes and whirls around, raising his gun. He could've sworn he heard footsteps. This feels just like it used to, adrenaline rushes and all. He keeps going, stepping over broken pieces of wood and cement and dead rats. The stale air is sinking into his clothes and his hair and the smell is getting worse and worse as he goes deeper, but he doesn't stop. The smell eventually leads him to a heavy door at the end of a dark tunnel like hallway.

It's possible Ruby was right. Couldn't get more horror movie than this. He can definitely feel Halloween in the air. The door handle clangs when he pushes down on it and he stops for a beat, waiting for something to jump out at him. Nothing does. He opens the door.

The stench that assaults him when the door opens is so overwhelming that it catches him off guard momentarily and he has to choke down a gag, burying his face in the crook of his arm. ''Ugh,'' he groans, eyes watering from the strong smell. ''Son of a bitch.'' He blinks to clear his vision and when he reluctantly raises his eyes, he is bombarded by the horrific sight before him. Definitely, definitely the right place.

Three bloody corpses are lying in a row before him, virtually unrecognizable due to all of the gore. Chunks of their skin have been torn off and their hair is slick and matted with blood and - he steps a little closer - are those teeth marks? Has something been eating them? Oh yeah. Yeah, definitely supernatural. Nausea rolls in his stomach. The blood is everywhere. On the floors, on the walls, handprints smeared all over the goddamn place. The bodies are so gruesome that he can't even tell for sure if these are, in fact, the women he's looking for, though some part of him knows they are. Aside from the fact that they are covered in blood and have been savagely ripped apart, two of them are in the later stages of decomposition, which does not make identification any easier.

He tries to breathe through his mouth, but that does no good because the smell is so bad he swears he can taste it.

Okay.

So, he's pretty sure he's going to need to go outside and vomit after this and he knows the image is going to make it harder to sleep at night than it already is, but...he needs proof. He inches closer, shouldering his gun. The sparkling diamond engagement ring on one decaying corpse tells him it's Zoe Combs, a silver cross necklace on the oldest corpse is proof that it's Judy Richardson, and the bloodstained picture of a smiling little boy that he uncurls from the tightly clenched fist of the freshest body no doubt belongs to Natasha Eames.

He heaves another sigh, gnawing on his bottom lip briefly. ''All right, girls,'' he keeps his voice soft and quiet, like he's trying not to wake them. ''I'm gonna get you back to your families as soon as I can. I promise.'' Carefully, he gives Natasha back her picture of her son and stands. Somewhat hesitantly, he leaves the girls behind him, body now on red alert. Once he's back in the hallway, he takes in a gulp of the slightly less gag inducing air and resumes his search for clues. As clues go, the dead bodies were pretty big clues. In his mind, he's already going through a list of pissed off monsters who could do that much damage to a human body.

Vampires? Werewolves? Rakshasa? A rugaru? The ghost of a carnivorous douchenozzle maybe?

A door on the right hand side is open a crack - of course it is, because he's in a horror movie right now - and Dean can see light streaming into what looks like a vast and mostly empty room through the grimy windows. He pushes open the door with his foot, gun cocked and ready to fire, and he steps inside. The only way to describe the room would be to say it is some kind of living quarter, although it is massively pathetic. He supposes monsters don't care all that much about decor. There are a few dirty magazines strewn on the floor, styrofoam coffee cups litter the ground, there is exactly one rickety chair that looks like it's about to break at any second, a flashlight lies next to a piddly radio, and an oddly lumpy and messy bed is right in the middle of the room. Well, somebody didn't make their bed this morning.

Dean frowns, tilts his head to the side, and stares at the bed. There's something really off about that bed. A hunch forms in his gut. With his eyes fixated on the bed, he easily catches it when what looks like a maggot slithers out from underneath the dirty pillow. He inhales. Letting out a barely audible grunt of frustration, he strides across the room and in one swift movement, he tears the blankets and sheets away to expose the strange looking mattress. He replaces his gun with a switchblade, cutting away at the mattress, instantly recoiling in disgust when dead insects begin to stream out, falling at his feet.

Well, okay then. Rakshasa then. (You know, the last time he dealt with a rakshasa was right after Dad died. And ain't that just the kicker. The fuck? Do these things like to fuck with him when his head's all messed up or something?) He stands straight, letting out a breath.

''Hey!''

Startled, Dean whips around, smoothly slipping the knife back into his pocket.

An extremely nervous looking security guard is standing in front of him, brandishing a maglite at him threateningly. ''What are you doing here?'' He demands harshly, beads of nervous sweat appearing on his beet red forehead. ''You're not supposed to be here.''

Dean fumbles for a logical answer. Hunting monsters does not seem like it would be the best thing to say right now. Unfortunately for him, he is without false pretenses this time. No puppy dog eyed little brother, no suave blonde ready and willing to take one for the team by flirting their way out, and no fake badges to save him. He's fucked. ''Uh, I was just...'' He tries to lay on the thickest charm possible with what he hopes is an innocent looking smile, but it doesn't appear to be doing anything. ''Well, see, I was...I was on my lunch break and...'' He stops suddenly when he sees another live maggot crawling its way out of the security guard's pocket. ''Aw, hell.''

And his body is wired, programmed, to react, so he does. Dean lunges forwards with what he hopes is a well timed right hook to the other man's jaw and when the security guard, who Dean suspects is not just a security guard, staggers back, Dean takes advantage of the momentary distraction the best he can. He locks his hand around the man's wrist and twists, grabbing a hold of the maglite and wrestling it free. He swings the flashlight like it's a crowbar, bashing it into the security guard's head. The security guard stumbles back again, head snapping to the side. When he turns his head back to Dean, there's a snarl on his ugly mug and his face briefly contorts unnaturally.

Dean lets a smirk twist itself onto his lips. ''Would you look at that,'' he says, ''I can see you so much better now.''

When he swings the maglite once more, his luck runs out. This time, the rakshasa seems to be expecting it, hands curling around the base of the flashlight before it can make brutal contact with his head. A nasty growl erupts from low in the monster's throat and his cold, clammy hand grasps a fistful of Dean's shirt. The next thing he knows, he's flying. He goes crashing into the chair and lands hard on his back on the concrete floor. Man, is that ever gonna hurt tomorrow. Before he even has a chance to save himself, which by the way, he is totally capable of, someone new strolls into the room, oozing much too much confidence for someone who has just stumbled across a rakshasa.

Dean looks up and for half a second, he legitimately believes it's Ruby. There are flashes of blond and the new girl is pulling out a knife, no trace of surprise of anxiety anywhere on her young face. The rakshasa, looking none too happy about having been discovered, catches the knife, which Dean suspects is probably made of brass, and twists it out of her hand. No matter. She retaliates by punching him right in the nose and then stomps his foot, bringing her knee up into his groin. Demon or not, he howls and pales drastically, sinking to his knees. Without ever saying a word, she brings her knee up once more, this time catching him under the chin. He topples to the ground and she delivers quite a nasty kick to his stomach, so brutal it's as if the dude has hurt her personally.

Dean's already pretty wary. He has seen this method of combat before. It's the same kind of hand to hand that Ruby uses, dirty and straight to the point. The last time some pretty blonde walked into a Winchester's life and slaughtered everyone, he wound up with a kid and a demon-ey girlfriend.

The rakshasa, sensing that Blondie is not as girl next door as her innocent fluttery eyelashes suggests, decides his best course of action would be to make a hasty retreat. In an instant, the average looking man morphs into the shape of an enormous dog and lunges for the girl. She lets out a surprised gasp, followed by a shriek as it's paws make contact with her chest, tackling her to the ground.

Despite the hesitance, Dean huffs and rushes to save the damsel. The minute he grabs onto her hands, hauling her out from under the dog and practically lifting her to her feet, shoving her roughly behind him, there is a spark. She feels familiar. Like he's held her hands before. Saved her before.

The rakshasa cuts his losses, galloping right towards the window. Halfway there, it shimmers and shifts, turning invisible like these fuckers tend to do. The invisible dog crashes through the window, and as much as Dean hates to admit it, that right there was kind of cool looking. Still gonna gank it, though. New Girl rips free of Dean's grip on her, heeled boots click-clacking as she races to the window. The anxious look on her face, clenched teeth and fiery eyes, reminds him of something. Someone.

Finally, she sighs and gives up. As soon as she turns around, she's got a gun pointed at her, and it's unnerving how calmly she reacts. ''You're not going to shoot me, D...'' She pauses, a small smirk crossing her lips. ''...Dean.'' But she raises her hands anyway, most likely in an attempt to placate him.

He sneers at her. ''And who are you?'' He asks roughly. ''Supergirl?''

Her lips tease into a pout that is, once again, familiar. Almost unbearably so. ''A friend.''

''Sorry, honey,'' he says, ''try again. I don't have friends.''

She snorts at him. How ladylike. ''Wonder why.''

''Clock's a-tickin' there, Supergirl.''

''Fine,'' she grinds out through her teeth. ''I'm...'' She stops, pausing momentarily to think carefully about her answer. ''I'm the girl that just saved your ass.'' There's an odd sort of gleam in her eyes when she says that, like she wants so badly to laugh. ''Good enough?''

''Are you forgetting that I saved yours too? Cujo would've - ''

''Cujo didn't want to kill me. He just wanted to run.''

His teeth grind together in frustration.

''Look,'' she drops her hands impatiently and takes a risky step towards him. ''I'm here to help you, I swear. I'm a hunter.''

He doesn't falter, keeping the gun aimed squarely at her chest. ''I don't trust hunters as far as I can throw them.''

She cocks her head to the side. ''Yeah, well... Good instincts.''

''What's a girl like you doing hunting anyway?'' He asks, gun still drawn as he begins to circle her.

She seems to take great offense to that, nose wrinkling while she moves with him. ''A girl like me?''

He stops and stares at her. Clearly this civilian lifestyle has softened him. With a barely there wince, hoping he won't regret this, he lowers the gun. He can't help it. This girl's a teenager. Doesn't even look old enough to drink yet. And he can't help but see his daughter in her. (Actually, there is quite a striking resemblance...) ''How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?''

''Eighteen,'' she mutters out defensively. ''Almost nineteen.''

''That's still too young,'' he points out sagely. ''Shouldn't you be in school?''

''Graduated already,'' she says triumphantly.

''College then?''

''I'm weighing my options.''

''This is an option for you?''

She shrugs carelessly. ''It's a legacy thing.''

He scoffs. ''Pretty shitty legacy from where I'm standing.''

''Yes, but you're damaged.'' She pauses, lips pressed together. ''You seem damaged, I mean.''

''Yeah? Well, get out before you end up just like me. You're too young to waste your life like this.''

She laughs. When she laughs, her eyes twinkle. ''Spoken like a true father.''

He tenses. ''How do you know I'm a - How do you know my name?''

Her smile never slips, remaining in place as she glides even farther in his direction, keeping her hands where he can see them. ''Everybody knows about the Winchester family. You saved the world,'' she says it with a hint of honest to God pride in her voice, a serene smile still on her lips. It's starting to get kind of creepy. But then her smile drops abruptly and she locks eyes with him, suddenly looking very, very serious. ''I'm sorry about your brother.''

Purely on instinct, because of that gnawing, gaping hole in his chest, he cocks the gun once more and points it at her. ''I wouldn't,'' he warns.

She nods, lowering her head. For a moment, peering up at him with doe eyes through her eyelashes, she looks thoughtful, biting the inside of her cheek. She lifts her head and stares at him like he's under a microscope, no doubt trying to get under his skin. Goddamn it, where has he seen this girl before? ''Listen, Dean, I want to work with you on this case. You're going to need help. Trust me.''

''I work alone.''

And there's that smile again. Fuck, where'd she get that smile? ''No, you don't.''

Maybe he knows her parents or something? He runs through a list of hunters he has met over the years, but none of them stick out. For reasons unbeknownst to himself, he tucks the gun away and folds his arms. For the life of him, he cannot read this little girl. For all he knows, she could be a demon. But... She's eighteen years old, she reminds him of his daughter, and fatherhood has softened. So he caves. Pinching the bridge of his nose and cursing every paternal bone in his body, he stops fighting it. If it were Lila Bray, he asks himself, and that's as far as he gets.

''Okay, kid, what's your name?''

She seems caught off guard by the question, mouth working soundlessly for a moment before she manages to squeak out a name. ''Um...Mary.''

Heh.

Of course that'd be the name.

''Well,'' he closes the distance between them and latches onto her arm. ''Come on then, Mary. We've got a monster to hunt.''

.

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2:55 pm, Dean and Ruby's House

Last minute Halloween candy shopping sucks ass.

It's just another lesson learned in domestication for Ruby. Soccer moms have got some wickedly strong grips and some fucked up attitudes and when they want the last bag of candy corn, they are willing to pull hair to get it. She's learned that too. (That particular Real Housewife of Sioux Falls had no idea what she was getting into when she pulled Ruby's hair, FYI.) Next year, Ruby vows, she's just going to buy the candy in advance and hide it so that Dean can't eat all of it the same day she buys it. Maybe then she will avoid two giant un-fun hassles. The hassle of stealing candy from other frantic people and the hassle of staying up half the night rubbing the moron's back because of a monster stomachache from eating two bags of mini-chocolate bars. Dumbass. How is he not four hundred pounds?

Ruby enters the house with two bags full of candy corn and chocolatey goodness and her half asleep daughter on her hip. She just stole candy from Robyn Crowell, by far the bitchiest neighbor she has, whose annoying little son Alex, likes to pull Bray's hair. She is feeling particularly triumphant. The feeling quickly dissolves, however, when she waltzes into the kitchen and finds Dean playing Daddy to some kid who is not their kid.

He's sliding a mug across the table to some young blonde teenager and she's nibbling quietly on a sandwich. The thing that stands out the most is probably the way he's looking at her. He's looking at her like he looks at Bray when she's throwing a fit or the way he used to look at Sammy when he would get a headache, apprehensive, worried, and paternal all at the same time.

The girl looks up when Ruby enters and Ruby freezes, taken aback. The girl's eyes lock with hers and Ruby has to swallow, a little more startled than she'd like to admit. It's officially weird. Like ten seconds away from being creepy. She recovers as quickly as she can, sliding her gaze to Dean, who at least has the decency to look sheepish. ''Oh, really, Dean? Screw you. Come on, you're kidding me, right?''

''Ruby...'' Dean lets out a nervous sounding chuckle as he rushes to take the bags from her arms. ''Hey, hi,'' he presses quick, distracted kisses to the side of Ruby's mouth and Bray's forehead. ''Hello. Can I just...'' He looks over his shoulder at the girl, who shifts her wistful gaze back to her plate. ''...Talk to you for a minute? In the other room?''

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.

.

Ruby leans against the doorway to Bray's room and watches Dean tuck their daughter into her pink princess bed that she really doesn't seem to like, spilling whatever she can on it and squealing out a, ''die, pink!'' whenever is possible. Perhaps they should not have given into that ''every little girl likes pink'' shtick the salesman laid on them. Distrustfully, Ruby looks down the hall, not so sure it's safe to leave Teeny Bopper downstairs alone. When she looks back at Dean, he's just turning around to face her.

She arches a single eyebrow.

He spares one last glance over his shoulder at the sleeping toddler and then guides Ruby out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

''Explanation,'' she orders. ''Now.''

''There's a rakshasa in town,'' he says, rushed. ''I went to that bar where all of the missing girls went before they disappeared and I found this warehouse - ''

''Of course you did.''

He grimaces. ''They're all dead, Ruby. ...And then I found a bed made out of dead insects and then I found the rakshasa fucker - or, I guess he found me. And then the girl - Mary - made her big action movie heroine entrance and...'' He lets out a breath, looking at her with those stupid broken down eyes of his that he knows will get to her. ''She's just a kid, Ruby. I can't let her go after this thing alone. She'll get herself killed.''

She rubs at her forehead. Damn him and all of his paternalness that has just been bubbling over ever since Bray was born. Guess this means no taking the tiniest Alice in Wonderland out trick or treating. She swallows a sigh. The perfect Halloween memories will have to wait until next year. ''Okay,'' she agrees at last. ''We'll help her. But that's all, you got me? Just this one case. If this causes you to fall back into old habits, you can go do it somewhere else. Understood?''

He bobs his head up and down.

''Also,'' she adds on seriously. ''We're not keeping little Bambi down there. We don't take in strays, remember?''

He beams at her and it has been such a long time since she's seen him smile like that, so she smiles too. ''Deal.'' He holds his hand up for one of those teamwork high fives that have apparently become his newest dorky thing and she rolls her eyes like it's a huge burden that he is such a nerd, but she smacks his hand anyway. If it makes him smile...

These days, she's willing to do a lot of stupid shit to make him smile.

.

.

.

The girl steps out onto the front stoop, shutting the door behind her. The cool fall breeze whispers through her hair and she tugs her thin leather jacket closer to her body. With a tired yawn, she collapses onto the front step and shoves her hand into the pockets of her jacket. The breeze continues to blow strands of hair into her face as she stares out at the neighborhood. It's strange really. How everything is so different and yet somehow the same.

She eyes the woman across the street who is slamming her car door shut and struggling up the driveway with a huge pumpkin in her hands. Same Mrs. Kendrick, albeit much younger. Because she can't help herself, she leans forwards a little to look at the house three houses down. While she is staring at the familiar house, a minivan swings into the driveway and a surprised gasp escapes her lips. She leans back, biting down on her lip nervously. A little peek couldn't hurt. She leans forwards again just in time to see a very familiar man lift a squirming dark haired toddler out of the minivan.

She can't help but laugh. How many girls get this kind of chance? The little boy is kicking and screaming and throwing what looks to be a tantrum of epic proportions. Yep. That's definitely -

''You're using your dead grandmother's name as your cover?''

She jerks in surprise, head snapping towards the familiar face walking up the pathway. Her surprise gives way to laughter. ''Dude,'' she giggles, pointing down the street. ''That's you.''

His lips thin in annoyance. ''I just spent the morning shadowing your mother at a supermarket. While she was having a tug-a-war with my mother over candy corn, little you ran off and I had to save your tiny little ass. Feel grateful.'' He shrugs. ''But then when I gave you back to your mother, you googly eyed me. I felt awkward.''

She cackles, rising to her feet and tugging at his leather jacket. ''Should've told little me don't worry, in a few years you'll get to fuck this hot piece of ass all the livelong day. I'm sure that - ''

''Lila.''

''Alex.''

He lets out a long suffering sigh and looks at her like he's valiantly trying to remember why he loves her so much.

She fixes him with her best 'don't hate me because I'm cute' look. ''Hey now, Mr. Grouchypants, why the long face?''

''Don't be cute.''

Her hands snake around his waist and she looks up at him with a wicked smirk. ''I'm sorry,'' she murmurs. ''Your request is invalid.'' She leans up to capture his lips in her own, hoping it will calm his obviously shot to hell nerves. Ever since they came back, Alex has been one giant party pooper, raining on every parade she tries to cook up. Everything has become incredibly methodical and precise since traveling back to 2010. She's guessing it not only has to do with their mission, but also his mother. In the future, his mother is dead, killed by a brain aneurysm in the middle of the night in a giant dose of karma. (And good riddance...) But here, in October of 2010, she is still very much alive and very much the same awful Robyn Crowell as she always was.

But hey, it's not as if she's without her own problems. Her uncle's off somewhere without a soul and she keeps thinking that if she warns someone, Uncle Bobby maybe... If she warns them of what's to come...maybe they'll be able to save Uncle Cas. And then, of course, there's the kicker. The main event. The reason they're back here pulling a Dad-and-Uncle-Sam-go-back-in-time-to-save-the-grandparents thing.

''Lila,'' he utters, stopping her when her lips are inches away from his. He looks down at her with exasperated dark eyes. ''This was not the plan.''

She pulls away from him instantly. You know, she had kinda been hoping he wouldn't mention that. ''I-I know.''

''You were supposed to get your father away from this hunt, not offer to help him with it.''

''I know,'' she repeats. She runs a hand through her hair, a nervous habit picked up from years of watching her mother do it in times of great stress. ''But I have a new plan,'' she finally says brightly. ''I'm going to go with Dad tonight and help him out. Two against one. Better odds than before, right?''

He gapes at her. ''Okay,'' he speaks slowly, putting his hands on her shoulders and locking eyes with her. ''I love you, but your plan is stupid.''

She glowers at him, a true Winchester scowl marring her face. ''Fuck you.''

He sighs at her. Again. ''Lila, you know what's going to happen if your father walks into that warehouse tonight.''

''I don't,'' she protests. ''Because I'll be there with him. That's changing history as it is.''

''Listen to me,'' he grabs her arms, pulling her to him. ''If he walks in there tonight, he will get into a fight with that rakshasa and he will die.'' She visibly flinches, swallowing hard. ''And then everything is over, Lila,'' he continues. ''It's over. Your uncle won't get his soul back, your mother will be murdered by Samuel Campbell, your brother won't even be born, neither will your cousins, and all of those people your father saves - including me - will die. And then you'll be stuck all alone in a rotting world ruled by fucking Leviathans! That is, if they don't eat you before you hit puberty. And all because some asshole rakshasa decided to stop in Sioux Falls for a bite to eat instead of going straight through to Nebraska where he was supposed to be killed by Rufus Turner.''

Anger flares in her gut, a cold rage spilling through her. She tugs free of his grasp, shoving at his chest roughly, hard enough to send him staggering back a step. ''Well, no fucking shit, Sherlock! I know all of this crap, Alex! It is all I can think about. And yeah, it'd be so much easier to pawn this thing off on Rufus, but unfortunately, that's not an option anymore. Dad already knows it's here and he knows what it did to those women and he's not going to stop until it's dead.'' She stops to take in a few gulps of air, trying unsuccessfully to quell all of the feelings she does not have time for that are currently trying to claw their way up her esophagus. ''All I can do now is make sure Dad doesn't get a knife to the jugular, and I will, all right? I will. I'm not going to let him die, I'm not going to let Mom die, I'm not going to let you die, and I sure as hell am not going to let anything happen to my brother. You have seriously got to trust me on this, Alex. I know it's dangerous, but right now it's the only way I can save my dad.''

He clenches his jaw and stares at her with that precisely blank look on his face that is the one thing about him she's never been able to unravel. ''Lila,'' he breathes out at last, pointing a warning finger at her. ''If anything happens to you, so help me God...''

''Nothing's going to happen to me,'' she murmurs soothingly. She steps over to him and takes his face in her hands, offering him something in between a smile and a smirk. ''You have got to stop thinking I'm so breakable. Do you even realize who I am? Don't be so paranoid.''

''I'm not paranoid,'' he protests softly. ''I just love you. I'm your boyfriend, it's allowed.''

''And if you keep saying cheesy shit like that,'' she warns with a laugh. ''You're going to be my ex-boyfriend.'' But she stands on her tip toes to kiss his forehead anyway. Eh, it might've been cheesy, but it was probably one of the sweetest things he had ever said to her. He's not one for long heartfelt conversations.

He takes a step away from her and pulls out a folded piece of bright orange paper from his jacket pocket. He hands her the paper and his eyes, hard and dark and determined, tell her in no uncertain terms to watch her fucking back tonight because if she gets her reckless self killed, he'll be going full on darkside to get her back. She has no doubt. Eyeing him dubiously, she unfolds the piece of paper, skimming it quickly. It's a flyer for a Halloween party tonight at Mikail's Pub. ''You and your dad aren't the only ones going hunting tonight - ''

''I know,'' she nods, ''that's why your job is to intercept Uncle Sam and the Campbell Clan before Dad comes face to face with Uncle Angelus before he's supposed to.''

His lips twitch and he shakes his head. ''That's not what I meant. I was talking about the rakshasa. With all of the slutty nurses and sexy vampires that will inevitably be there, I'm sure Harry Potter and his invisibility cloak are going to be there lookin' for the tastiest playboy bunny wannabe.''

''Alex,'' she grins widely. ''You're a genius!''

She turns to leave, but before she even gets a step away, he threads his finger through the belt loop on her jeans and spins her back to him, lips crashing onto hers. She squeaks in surprise, but quickly melts, arms winding around his neck, flyer still clenched in between her fingers. He pulls away much too soon, earning himself a groan of displeasure from her. ''One thing,'' he whispers. ''Just do one thing for me.''

''What's that?''

''Don't do stupid shit.''

''Again,'' she smirks and lays her hands flat against his chest, beginning to push away from him. ''Your request is invalid.''

end part one


AN: Come on, who doesn't want to see Lila Bray pull a Chris Halliwell?

Info dump: Yes, Alex is the other surprise guest and the other pairing is Alex/Bray. Mikail is pronounced like Mi-Kale not like Michael. This is a threeshot story. Part two will be posted on either Saturday or Sunday and the final part will be posted on Halloween. I probably shouldn't have even posted this so soon, but I feel like I've been waiting to post it forever and I couldn't wait anymore.