'Give me the Treat'
Notes: Happy Halloween everyone ;) - wanted to do a short story in celebration, so here it is. Thanks to Phoebe for the awesome idea behind this story and the lightning quick beta. I was drawing blanks LOL ;)
Virtual candy to everyone LOL :)
Happy Halloween Vixxie xxx
Warning: Language
Dean's POV
God … I hate Halloween.
Well except maybe for the candy, cause god … the candy is just awesome ... and the Half Moon Bay Pumpkin Festival's not too shabby, come here every year ... and the pie, hells bells, best damn pumpkin pie in the State. I can almost forgive all the supernatural activity in this place during the witching hours on Halloween night, every friggin' year ... it's worth it ... the pie's that damn good.
I shrug my shoulders at the thought as I shove my sticky hand back into the bright orange, pumpkin shaped bucket, fishing out a Kit Kat, oh yeah, now we're talking, tearing the wrapper with my teeth before taking a huge bite. I roll my eyes in bliss. Oh god … candy.
"Dean? Are you in the sweets again?"
I shove the bucket behind my back. I'm sitting, legs stretched out in front of me on my bed, leaning against the headboard in the 'pumpkin theme' motel room. Sammy saunters out of the shower, towel-drying his shaggy hair, bigger orange towel just barely hanging off his hips.
"Nwope."
He gives me a dirty look, and I grin, which only makes him pull his face at me in disgust.
"Gross dude, there's friggin' chocolate and shit all over your teeth. Chew and swallow before you talk … seriously."
He huffs, giving me his pissy look.
"And leave the damn candy alone, man … I told you … it's for the kids, the little 'trick-or-treaters'!"
I sigh miserably, damn kids have all the fun, but that doesn't stop me from shoving the rest of the candy bar into my mouth. I chew noisily, melted chocolate leaking from the corners of my mouth as I suck in the creamy, brown spittle, just to piss Sammy off. I grin again as Sammy forces back a gag.
"You are so sick."
I chuckle as I throw the wrapper across the room, wooting and fist pumping, as it lands in the bin, smacking my lips in appreciation.
"So where are we going for supper?"
Sam stops mid-pull, as he slips his freakishly long leg into his jeans.
"Supper? Shit, after what you've just eaten? Are you still seriously hungry?"
I look at him as if he's taken a nose-dive into 'stupid'.
"Hell yeah ... this place has the best friggin' pumpkin pie in the world, Sammy ... I'm not missing one day of that awesomeness ... no sir ... no way!"
I push myself up and reach for my jacket hanging over the back of the chair.
Sammy chuckles again, still shaking his head in disbelief.
"You are something else, man."
"That I am, Sammy m'boy ... that I am ... now let's get cracking ... don't want to be late."
He gives me a suspicious glare, ah crap ... here it comes ... the friggin' lecture.
"You do remember we're here for a reason ... this isn't all fun and games right? The boundary between the alive and the deceased dissolves tonight, Dean, and the dead become dangerous to the living ... "
"Yeah, Yeah Mr. P. Pooper ... l haven't forgotten, but we still have plenty of time, and we'll have more time if you'd shake a leg already."
He pulls a t-shirt over his head just as there's a knock on the door.
'Trick or Treat' singsongs through the closed door. I grin.
"I'll do it!"
Sammy grabs the bucket from the bed before I can reach it, and marches over to the door.
"No, thank you very much, you've done your share … I've got it."
I watch as he glares at me victoriously, before he opens the door, and freezes. He's suddenly dead still, like a statue? I watch him suspiciously, waiting for him to say or do anything ... but he almost seems frozen, that smart ass grin gone from his face.
It starts slowly, almost in slow motion ... his limbs start shaking, just fractionally, and then suddenly his arms start flapping and his legs start jumping up, his knees almost reaching his ears, and his bouncing on the spot like an albatross trying to take off in a sturdy wind storm. But it's the noise that nearly gives me a friggin heart attack.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAHH!"
"SHIT SAM!"
I'm clutching my heart in shock.
"What the hell, what's with the 'Lord of the Dance' routine?"
He doesn't seem to hear me, not surprising through the shrill feminine screaming.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAHH! WAAAAAAAAAAAHH!"
"Sammy? Are you okay dude? Answer me!"
I'm trying to talk loudly, over the ruckus ... slowly moving towards him ... god ... I think it's possible he may just have gotten possessed right on my watch. I have my hands up, trying to get his attention ... but when he's terrified eyes glance at me, I'm on instant alert.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAHH!"
Shit, something must be seriously wrong. My hand is quickly on the handle of my gun tucked into the back of my jeans as I move to the door.
I protectively move in front of Sammy, ready to draw, aim, and shoot the supernatural SOB if the need arises, I'm half in a Chuck Norris karate kick pose, but all I can do is stare in amazement at the little group in front of me. I raise an eyebrow.
Four pairs of shocked eyes stare back at me in wide eyed bewilderment, their glances moving from me to Sammy's rendition of a hell-raising rain dance and back again. He's still screaming hysterically, or trying to, but thank god, he's losing his voice. I look over my shoulder, almost mesmerised by his wide eyes, reflecting untold horror ... and I'm temporarily speechless.
The little dudes start backing away from the door, god, Sammy's probably scaring the shit outta the little 'Darth Mal', 'Baby Sasquatch' – I scratch my arm absently - and 'Little Frankenstein' ... but it's the tiniest dude in the front that has Sammy in such a tizz. I grab the bucket from Sammy's waving hands, ignoring him for a second, as I hold it out to them in a semi-peace offering, putting on my 'it's alright, nobody's going to get hurt' smile ... shruggin' my shoulders in complete embarrassment ...
"Sorry, dudes … he's …"
I whisper conspiratorially ...
"… gay."
They all look at me sceptically, but their little hands still reach into the bucket for a fist full of candy each. I watch them as they back away from the door, before speed walking away as fast as their little legs will carry them. But I don't miss a quiet retort …
"He's not the only one."
"Hey!" but the kids are already gone. What the hell does that mean? My brow creases in confusion ... the little shits.
When I'm sure they're gone, I close the door, quickly grabbing Sammy as he suddenly sways. Kid is hyperventilating, eyes rolling a bit, on the verge of passing out.
"Easy, easy ... deep breaths, that's it ... nice and slow. It's gone."
He leans over and puts his hands on his knees as I gently pat him on his back. He draws in ragged breaths. At least he's run out of enough air to keep yelling.
I crouch in front of him, checking to see if he's calmed down enough, that he's not going to keel over, before carefully helping him up. He's huffing uncontrollably as I slowly manoeuvre him away from the door.
"It's okay, I've got ya ... Take it easy ..."
'Twas a fff fff fff .."
I pull him upright as he tilts, letting him lean his weight into me while steering him towards his bed.
"Yeah I know, bad, nasty fugly." I swallow back a chuckle.
"I hhhhatttte kla kla kla …"
"Uh huh, I know ... but it's over now ... here …"
I use my soothing voice, helping him onto his bed, pilling pillows behind him as he leans back.
I quickly riffle through my bag next to my bed, grabbing and opening my small emergency bottle of Jack Daniels before moving back to my pale brother. I tilt the golden liquid towards his lips, his shaking hands trying to grip onto my own and the bottle at the same time as he takes a tentative sip.
"Ffffffffing kids …"
"Yep, thoughtless monsters. Drink a little more."
I turn my head, snorting into my shoulder, as I hold the bottle steady, hovering in front of his mouth as he takes another tentative sip. He coughs weakly as he swallows the burning drink. Just a few sips should do it, he's a piss-poor boozer … but it will take the edge off, at least until he can calm down, and regain his composure.
The memory has me shaking my head again, trying to fight the urge to burst into hysterical laughter … god, this is going to be the best leverage to use against Sammy when he's not so freaked out. I grin, storing this information for later use in a potentially embarrassing situation. I mean, the dude was tiny … the Halloween costume was tinier … okay, except for the huge feet, the bright green hair … and well, the huge red nose.
I snort again.
Shit, Sammy really does have a phobia for clowns.
Fin ;)