I'd originally planned to get this finished and posted by Halloween, but real life has a way of screwing with the best laid plans. Anyhoo, I promise to get the second part up as soon as possible. But, I'd like to offer this as my Halloween gift!!

Hollow Victories

"So you really think this is our kind of thing?" Sam Winchester closed the door of the big black Chevy and adjusted his tie as he made his way around to the driver's side of the car. The town they found themselves in was a picturesque village in eastern New York, just north of the big city. The Hudson River ran to the east of the village, separating the quiet little burg from the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple. Sam was hoping to get his brother to agree to heading over to New York City for a day to check out a few of the book stores Bobby had told him about. He even had a list of volumes the old mechanic was interested in acquiring, although Sam had no idea where the older hunter would store them in his packed house.

"I told you, Sam. Two bodies, sans heads." Dean looked up at his younger brother, a slight smirk on his face.

"You think it could be Gordon?"

Dean pursed his lips and shook his head. "No."

Sam waited a beat for more before dipping his own head in question. "And you're so sure about that because…."

Dean shrugged. "Because, Gordon chopped the heads from those vampires, but he didn't keep them as souvenirs." He held up a hand before Sam could comment. "Both heads are missing. And the victims were long time residents, not drifters or new arrivals. One was a 60-year old man and the other a 40 year old mother of two." He raised his eyebrows, his eyes squinting slightly in the mid day sun, smile playing on his lips. "That sound like vampire material to you? Besides, in this location, it was just too good to pass up."

Sam looked around the street, noting the shops and stores that lined the main avenue. The town itself was quiet, with large homes built back into soft rolling hillsides. They'd past more than a few mansions on their drive into town, both brothers whistling at the opulence of the estates. The only unnatural thing Sam had seen was the shape of some of the foliage surrounding some of those estates. "Okay," he drawled, following the older man across the two-lane street, dodging a few cars along the way. "What is it about this place that has you all amped up?"

Dean stopped as soon as he hit the opposite curb and turned toward his brother. "You really don't know?"

Sam made a show of looking up and down the street, then pursed his lips and gave a shrug. "What exactly am I supposed to know, Dean?"

Dean chuckled and shook his head as if the answer should be obvious. "Two headless bodies are found here… in Tarrytown, New York." He waved a hand in an imitation of Vanna White, dipping his head in question as he watched the younger man's face. "And you're telling me you didn't make the connection?"

Sam waited, his eyes brows raised in expectation.

"And here I thought college made you smart," Dean mumbled as he dropped his arm dejectedly and started at a brisk pace down the sidewalk. He waited for the taller man to catch up before starting his narrative. "Tarrytown has been around since before the revolutionary war. One of its more influential citizens back then was a man by the name of Washington Irving." He watched his brother out of the corner of his eye, his smile growing when the name suddenly clicked in Sam's mind. "Yep. Tarrytown was the actual setting for the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Sammy. We are in the home of the Headless Horseman."

Sam couldn't stop the snort of laughter that escaped as he followed his brother to the front door of the local police station. "Sleepy Hollow? You're kidding right? That's what's got you all a-twitter?"

Dean stopped as he reached for the door, turning slightly to throw his brother a look of reproach. "A-twitter? Seriously, dude?"

"Come on, Dean. That was just a story. The Headless Horseman is just a myth."

Dean nodded, both sides of his mouth turned down in a look of thoughtful deliberation. "Sort of like ghosts, and wendigos and all kinds of supernatural shit that we hunt down and kill every day?"

Sam stuttered for a moment, not really having a response. "I know all that, man. But, the headless horseman? That's just weird – even for us."

"Maybe," Dean let his grin spread across his face. "But you gotta admit, two headless bodies showing up right now… right here? It's worth checking into, right?"

Sam took a long breath through his nose and released it in a drawn out sigh. After Dean's admission about what he believed their father had done – how he had traded his life for Dean's -- Sam had wished for anything to put some kind of spark back into his brother's eyes. Dean had shut down after confessing that he believed John Winchester had made some kind of a deal with the yellow-eyed demon for Dean's life. He'd driven to the nearest medical clinic, opting to wait outside, alone while Sam had his hand x-rayed and cast. After that, they'd found a motel and Dean had withdrawn, only speaking when spoken to and becoming more mono-syllabic than normal, making Sam almost wish for the tail-spinning brother that had started to really scare him back in that college town.

This hunt had been the first thing that had broken through the self-imposed silence and, although Sam was having a hard time believing it was what Dean hoped it was, he found himself wanting to play along if only to feed the spark of life that had returned in his brother "Maybe," he finally admitted. "But… the Headless Horseman?"

"Look at the bright side, Sammy," Dean offered as he pulled open the door to the station. "At least it's not a clown."

Snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsns

It always amazed Sam what a dark suit, a flip of a badge and a firm handshake could get them. In this case, it got them past the duty sergeant of the Tarrytown police precinct and into the morgue, where Sam got his first look at the decapitated corpses that had his brother so excited. It was a sight he could've done without. They were exposed to quite a bit of ugliness in their line of work – headless corpses not withstanding -- but seeing what was once a human being without the immediate identifying components such as a head or face still managed to turn his stomach.

"Any idea what could've done this?" asked Dean, leaning over one of the bodies, his eyes raking across the clean line of the cut.

"Not yet," the old coroner sighed. "It's obvious whoever did this had brute strength going for them." He shifted his glasses down from their position perched on his head and stared down his nose, pointing at the protruding neck with a pen. "As you can see, the head wasn't sawed off. The cut was very clean. Almost surgical."

"Like with a scalpel?" Sam asked, keeping his eyes carefully trained on the man on the opposite side of the drawer. His last encounter with a severed head had been enough to last him for a while.

"No," was the quick response. "No scalpel could cut this completely. It had to have been a much larger blade."

"Like a sword?"

The coroner chuckled at the barely concealed excitement in Dean's voice.

"I see you've done your homework, Agent Shaw." The man replaced the thin sheet that had been covering the remains and pushed the drawer back into the wall. "I'm well aware of the history of this town, and as much as it pains me to admit it, a sword or a very sharp axe would most likely be the murder weapon."

"And the heads are still missing."

The doctor nodded grimly. "I don't know what could possess someone to commit such an act of savagery, or what could possess them to keep such a sick memento. I hope you find whoever did this. Before it gets out of hand."

Sam exchanged a look of confusion with his brother. "Before what gets out of hand?"

The doctor sighed. "I suppose it has occurred to you that headless bodies found here, in what is essentially Sleepy Hollow would garner quite a bit of attention in the media." He removed his glasses and shoved them absently into the breast pocket of his lab coat. "I mean, the legend of the Headless Horseman, is just that, a legend, but there are those who still believe the story is real. Those who would believe – and want others to believe – the Horseman still rides."

"It has occurred to us," Dean assured him, schooling his features into a professional demeanor. "That's why we intend to be very discreet in our investigation."

The coroner nodded, his eyes moving from Dean to Sam and back again. "I certainly hope so, Agents. I can only imagine the circus we'll have if word gets out the Horseman has returned."

Snsnsnsnsnsnsnsns

Dean squinted slightly as he read through the information on the computer screen. Normally, he'd let his geek sidekick do the research, but it was obvious Sam was simply humoring him, not really believing there was a hunt here in Tarrytown. The younger man had been forced to admit that two headless bodies was worth checking out, but he was convinced they would find that there would be nothing supernatural about it. How the kid could be so dismissive was beyond Dean.

Okay, that wasn't exactly true. Sam, for the most part, was a lot more in touch with his girly, touchy feely side then Dean would ever hope – or want – to be. And he wasn't blind. He knew that Sam was worried about him. Ever since spilling his guts about what he believed Dad had done to save him on that mountain roadside, he'd noticed the younger man going out of his way to be more tolerant of his older brother's idiosyncrasies. And to be honest, he'd found himself at a loss.

He was used to having Sam ride him about his behavior. It made things seem normal. Dean would drink, Sam would bitch. Dean would make crappy jokes, Sam would bitch. Dean would eat like it was his last meal, Sam would simply shake his head and try not to watch. It made Dean happy.

Of course, he wasn't exactly keeping up his end of the deal lately.

Ever since Dad… ever since he'd reasoned out what had probably happened back at the hospital, he'd felt like the weight on his shoulders had tripled.

Dad had died for him. He still wasn't sure exactly how, he didn't know the logistics of the deal, but he was positive that John Winchester had finally put his son's life ahead of his vendetta.

And for the life of him he had no idea what to do with that.

He knew his dad loved him. It's not like they'd ever been a demonstrative kind of family, but Dean had always known. And, of course he'd idolized his father – the man was larger than life, a real honest-to-goodness hero in ever sense of the word. What son wouldn't look up to a man like that?

Sure, Dad had a tendency to keep things bottled up, to keep them in the dark about important matters, but Dean had always know it was the man's way of protecting them. He'd never doubted his father's priorities, hell, he actually shared them.

Family comes first – at least that was the way he'd always seen it, despite what he'd said to Sam in the car after they'd escaped from the demon. Sam saw their father's priority as revenge.

Dean knew it was defense.

John Winchester had lost his wife, his love, his children's innocence to that damn demon. He wasn't going to lose any more.

Dean had always understood that, even if Sam hadn't. That was why he could cut his dad slack and Sam… well, Sam hadn't had the same relationship with Dad. Sam had never had to rely on the man for comfort, or truth, or support. He'd had Dean, and Dean was more than happy to give those things to his little brother. But Dean had needed his father to make him feel safe. And John had given him exactly what he'd needed. So Sam couldn't perceive what Dean could easily distinguish beneath their father's rough façade.

Fear.

Fear for them. For two boys whom he loved more than life itself and who he'd lay down his own life to protect.

So, yeah, Dean had been having a hard time knowing what his dad had sacrificed for him.

But he still had a job to do. And he was going to pull himself together and do it.

Whether Sam helped or not.

The jiggling of the key in the door pulled his attention from the screen and he turned to see his brother enter the room, a cardboard takeout tray balanced in one hand.

"Took you long enough," he grumbled. "Thought I'd have to file a missing persons report."

"Or maybe you could've just hunted down the horseman and asked him if he'd seen me."

Dan frowned and pushed the laptop to the back of the table as his brother dropped the tray onto the surface.

"He's headless, dude. How exactly would he answer me?"

Sam pulled off his jacket and tossed it onto the edge of the bed before taking a seat opposite his brother. He reached into the bag and pulled a wrapped burger, tossing it to Dean before pulling one out for himself.

"You find anything?"

Dean quickly unwrapped the burger and took a large bite, chewing for a moment before shifting the food to the side so he could talk. "They're building a Walmart near Albany Post Road. Broke ground about two weeks ago."

Sam snorted a laugh as he swallowed. "You think the Headless Horseman is pissed because Sam Walton is coming to town?"

"No, moron." He reached for the laptop and turned it toward his brother. "I think they unearthed something that's been buried for a long time."

Sam leaned forward and scanned the article, his eyebrows rising to disappear under his hair. "Bones? They found unidentified human bones?"

"Yep," Dean nodded, reaching for one of the tall drinks and sipping on the straw. "According to the 'experts'" he used his free hand to draw air quotes in front of him. "They believe the bones date back to the 1700's. And get this – the head? It's missing."

Sam sat back. "Huh. So there really is a case here."

"Look like."

The younger man took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay, so what do you want to do?"

Dean dropped his burger and stared. "That's it? I prove there's a case here and all you have to say is 'what to you want to do?'"

Sam shrugged. "I guess." At Dean's look of anger, he held up a hand. "Look, Dean, I'm sorry. I believe you, okay? But you gotta admit, man, the Headless Horseman?"

"I never said it was the Horseman, I just said it was worth checking out. I do know how to do my job, Sam."

Sam nodded. "I know, Dean. And I said I was sorry, but you gotta admit, things haven't exactly been normal lately. After Dad, and that zombie girl and Gordon… I just…" He sighed and raised his eyes to meet his brothers. "I'm sorry. Okay? You were right. I shouldn't have doubted you… again. I just… I just want you to be okay."

Dean swallowed, the burger suddenly heavy in his stomach. "I know. I haven't exactly been… I'm okay, Sammy. Really, I am. Whatever Dad did… I have to live with that. I'm just not sure how…" he paused, knowing it wasn't really Sam he was angry with. "Let's just check out these bones and figure out what we're dealing with here, okay? Can we do that? Can we just do our job?"

Sam sighed and nodded his head once. "Yeah, Dean. We can do that."

Snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

A quick call to their new coroner friend got them the location of the bones. The forensic anthropologist that had been called in was not available until the next morning, so they scheduled a meeting with him and decided to check out the construction site itself.

The foundation for the new superstore was huge. Dean and Sam had been shopping in Walmarts and stores like it as far back as they could remember. They had never had much money, and – as soon as Sam had hit his growth spurt and started needing new clothes instead of Dean's hand-me-downs, Walmart had become a staple in the Winchester's world. Not only could they buy enough t-shirts and jeans to keep both boys looking somewhat presentable, they could also pick up essentials such as hunting knives, large quantities of salt and sometimes even shotgun shells without raising suspicion.

Of course, in those days the stores were not nearly as high-tech and spacious as the new building they saw before them.

Dean let out a low whistle as he sat forward in the driver's seat, his eyes wide as he took in the sheer size of the store. "That is one big Wally World."

"It's like they're going up all over the country," Sam responded. "Apparently, there are more Walmarts than any other stores in the United States."

"Walmarts taking over," Dean mused. "Think it's a sign of the apocalypse?"

Sam chuckled then shrugged. "Could be." He opened his door and stepped out into the cool New England night. "What exactly do you think we're going to find here, Dean?"

"I don't know." Dean climbed out of the Impala and leaned across the top of the shiny black car. "But this is where they found the bones. And both the bodies were found within a hundred yard radius of the perimeter." He nodded to a large, wrought iron fence across the deserted road behind Sam. "And there is a cemetery right next door. Looks like a good place to find a ghost."

"You mean the Headless Horseman?"

"Maybe." Dean didn't let the sarcasm in his brother's voice get to him. "I'm not ruling out any possibility."

"Okay," Sam drawled slowly. "So what? You just want to sit around and hope he comes galloping out of the automotive department?"

"No, smartass. I want to go check out the grounds and see if we can find the missing head."

Sam dipped his head, throwing his brother a look of disbelief, "Dean, first of all we don't even know if that skeleton has anything to do with those two deaths. The bodies could have been found out here simply because it's so remote. Not to mention that an entire construction crew hasn't found the head despite digging up half the town. What makes you think we're gonna have a chance in hell of finding it in one night, in the dark, without any kind of equipment?"

"Ah ah, Sammy." Dean chastised, as he stepped around the big Chevy and popped open the trunk. "Don't forget, we've got something that construction crew didn't." He pulled out the old Walkman he had modified into an EMF detector and held it up, wriggling it back and forth for emphasis.

"EMF?" Sam turned the side of his lips down and nodded approvingly. "If the bones had a spirit attached that is responsible for the deaths, the skull should give off EMF. Good thinking, Dean."

Dean grunted an acknowledgement and pulled a shotgun from the trunk, tossing it to Sam across the car. He pulled another weapon from the arsenal, then closed the trunk with a grin. "That's why I get the big bucks, Sammy."

Snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsns

Three hours of traipsing across muddy, broken ground produced nothing and Sam was nearing the end of his patience. While he really wanted to placate his brother, he wasn't especially thrilled about spending the entire night outside in the cold traipsing around searching for what could very well be nothing more than a stretch of Dean's imagination.

"Dean, I hate to say it, man, but we got nothing."

Dean sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Yeah. I know. I just figured it was worth a shot, ya know?"

"I know, but this whole Headless Horseman thing is just a myth, man. Even you have to admit it."

Sam watched as Dean switched off the EMF meter, shoving it into a coat pocket, his disappointment obvious on his face. They'd made it to the far side of the construction site, where the property line connected with the tall black fence of the cemetery, leaving a long trek across the uneven, equipment strewn land back to where they'd left the Impala. Sam turned to start the trek back to the car when Dean's voice stopped him.

"You hear that?"

Sam twisted his head back toward his brother, his ears picking up a faint noise, rhythmic and quickly growing louder.

He frowned. "What is that?"

Both men raised their shotguns, slowly backing up against each other, their eyes surveying the darkness surrounding them. Suddenly, from behind the partially erected building, a figure loomed from the shadows, its black cape rustling in the wind as it sat atop the huge black beast galloping toward them.

"Holy crap," Dean muttered, his eyes locked on the apparition barreling down on them. He took a step back, bumping into his brother who had turned at the sound of his voice.

"No way," Sam uttered, his voice filled with awe and disbelief. "Is that…"

"A headless ghost on a horse?" Dean responded casually. "Looks like." He raised his shotgun and fired at the spirit, which simply swerved to avoid the blast and kept coming.

They both began to move backwards toward the fence line.

Dean fired again, the salt round hitting home but only causing the spirit to flicker out of existence for a moment before reforming closer to them than before.

"Run!" he screamed as he fired one more time before turning and running full bore back toward the cemetery. The fence was iron, which would stop the spirit from pursuing, but it loomed a good eight feet in height, topped with wicked looking spikes on every other post. There was a gate about 100 yards down the property line positioned directly under the sole street light, but it was held tightly closed with a padlocked chain.

"Get to the gate!" Dean yelled. He turned and fired again, trusting that Sam would take care of the lock as long as he could hold the spirit off long enough. A quick glance showed him that Sam's long legs had gotten him to the gate and the younger man was now kneeling before the lock, working on the mechanism.

The horseman appeared again almost directly in front of Dean who had to dive to the side to avoid being trampled by the ethereal beast. His hip connected with a large stone, causing him to grunt out loud, the jarring pain of the impact causing him to drop the shotgun. Scrambling across the ground, he reached for the weapon and rolled quickly, sighting on the spirit looming above him.

"Sam!" He aimed again at the apparition as it stopped beside him, but the shot went wide as the dark horse reared up on its hind legs, front hoofs pawing against the darkness. The streetlight seemed to shine through the spirit, its black cape flowing behind it in the nonexistent breeze. The hooves of the horse were directly above him and he threw his arms above his head in a feeble attempt to protect himself.

"Dean!" The sound of the shotgun blast rang out and Dean jumped, half expecting to feel the hooves of the horse smash down against him. He looked up in time to see the spirit disappear yet again, tilting his head to find his brother standing next to the open gate, his own shotgun smoking.

"Come on!" Sam yelled, his gun still trained on the empty space the horseman had previously occupied.

Dean quickly pushed himself from the ground, wincing at the sudden pain in his hip that threatened to topple him. He forced himself to put weight on the leg and limped as fast as possible toward his brother who grabbed his jacket as soon as he was within reach and pulled him bodily through the gate. Dean toppled onto the ground as Sam quickly slammed the gate closed behind them just as the spirit reappeared directly underneath the street lamp. The horse raised itself again, the headless rider leaning forward in perfect balance as the sound of the beast's sinister whinny seemed to fill the air all around them.

Then just a suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone, their own rapid breaths the only sounds in the silence.

After a few moments, they both slumped back against the fence, swallowing hard.

"You were saying?" Dean gave his brother a wide-eyed glance.

Sam didn't even bother to look at him. "Shut up."

TBC