Candles lit the hallways with little yellow orbs of light, making the numbers on the doors barely distinguishable and highlighting every cobweb on the ceiling and every crack in the wooden floorboards. The windows rattled through the front foyer, which was unoccupied. The only lights were that of the candles adjacent that went through the corridors and the moon which shone through the glass windows, leaving square patches of light on the derelict floors. Every now and again there was a scurrying, either of rats or the guests; it was too hard to tell.

Down the left corridor, turning left, right, right again, there was room 46. Inside this room there was a disturbance of the weirdest kind. Two brothers were arguing, rather loudly considering the otherwise hushed atmosphere and an angel, who sat upon a chair, watched the raucous with a bemused expression on his face. The rats didn't scurry past this door, but avoided it altogether. The wind seemed to accelerate past this rooms window where otherwise it was just a breeze.

One of the brothers sat down on the motel bed in a huff, making the bed springs squeak under his tall form. He had his lips pouted in exasperation, his hazel eyes squinted at the bed, avoiding his brother, who was standing at the end of the bed, waiting for the other to stop causing a scene.

'We are not doing this, that's final,' said the younger brother on the bed, still refusing to look at the other.

The older brother's eyes flew up in surprise, 'Oh, was that an order? I think you're forgetting who's older here.'

'You're forgetting who's smarter,' said the younger brother, looking up.

'You're forgetting who's the boss.'

'You're forgetting that you're a jerk.'

'Bitch.'

'That's enough,' a grave voice said and the brothers looked to the chair at which the angel sat, 'We all know I'm older and smarter than both of you put together.'

'Shut it, Cas,' growled the two brothers before turning back to each other, glaring until the other would collapse and give in. The angel rolled his eyes.

'Fine!' The younger finally shouted, 'we'll do it! It's a really, really stupid idea though. We don't celebrate Halloween, ever, and you want to start now? After everything?'

The older brother smirked at his triumph but then became serious.

'I think we should celebrate it, as a family. When was the last time we sat down and celebrated as a family, Sammy?'

'But Halloween, Dean. Really?'

Dean nodded and half turned to the angel.

'Cas, can you please give us a moment?'

Suddenly he was talking to nothing. The two brothers waited for a couple of moments, silent, before looking at each other.

'You think he bought it?' Whispered Dean, looking around the room.

'I think so,' whispered Sam, getting up from the bed and looking out the window. No angels in sight. The two brothers looked at each other and smirked.

Dean went over to the cupboard and opened up the faded door, revealing a very large plastic bag, containing all different types of lollies, chocolate and Halloween accessories like fake blood, rubber eyes, plastic fangs, masks, and other gag-o-rific items that made Dean and Sam laugh. Absurd that this is what regular people found 'scary.' Most people had no idea of what goes bump in the night.

Half an hour later and room 46 was decked out like the rest of the hotel; spooky, low-lit and in the true festive feel of Halloween. Sam attached a fake spider to the last cobweb on the night stand and smiled, looking at his watch. Dean was still arranging some candles when he said, 'is it time?'

Sam nodded and took out his phone, 'I'll make the call.'

Bobby Singer smacked the microwave again in frustration.

'Damn piece of crap!' He growled at the infernal gadget, which was buzzing pathetically, no longer sending out the waves of heat that would cook his left over burrito. He felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. The name read, 'Hugh R. A. Moose'. He frowned, wondering what Sam could be ringing about and if it was that damn important that he couldn't wait until the morning. Bobby sighed, hitting the stupid microwave before accepting the call.

'Sam?'

'Bobby, it's Sam... I... I need your help,' he heard Sam's panicky voice on the other side of the phone. Bobby turned away from the microwave.

'What is it son?'

'It's Dean, something's... wrong with him. Can you come help me, please?' He pleaded.

'Sure thing Sam, where are you?' Bobby wasn't going to leave his family high and dry; the burrito be damned.

Bobby scrawled down the address and picked up his jacket and keys, marching out the door and into breezy October night.

'Time for Plan of Attack B?' Asked Sam, still getting into his costume. Dean stepped out the bathroom, cape swishing behind him.

'It is time,' he said in a deep voice, pulling his cape over his face, making Sam laugh.

'Dean, Dracula does that, not Batman.'

'Hey he's a bat, Dracula's a bat, they're practically family,' said Dean adjusting his Batman mask so he could see out the eye sockets properly.

'I'm glad this guy doesn't wear a patch over his eye,' said Sam, putting the hat on that went with his costume, 'because if we get attacked, I don't think you stand much chance of seeing them.'

'You still should have gone as Robin,' said Dean, slightly disheartened.

'For the last time, I'm not going as Robin,' sighed Sam, adjusting his hat in the dirty mirror.

'Yar, I can see that, Captain,' said Dean in a perfect pirate's voice, bowing to Sam. Sam stood back.

'Alright, how do I look?'

'Absolutely ravishing Captain Jack Sparrow, now all ye need is a wench,' Dean bowed again and Sam pushed him over, 'shut up and call him.'

'Sure you wouldn't like a wench? I could organise one,' said Dean in a normal voice before standing up and closing his eyes. Sam rolled his eyes and ignored him. Dean snapped his open and frowned at Sam, 'Hey is that my machete in your belt?' He said randomly.

'Well yeah, I don't exactly have a sword do I? This is the closest I could get,' he brandished the machete before putting it back in place. In fact, Sam had a lot of weapons on him that went perfectly with his Jack Sparrow outfit.

'Ok then...' Dean cleared his throat, closing his eyes again, 'Cas it's Dean. You can come back now.' He opened an eye and looked around, but no Cas in sight. He tried again.

'Oh Castiel, great Angel of the Lord, please bless us with your grace and get your ass here before I have to drag you by the wings,' said Dean loudly. There was a flutter and the brothers turned around.

'You... Dean?' Castiel looked perplexed at the Batman, 'Dean what are you wearing?'

'I'm Batman!' He exclaimed, shocked that Cas didn't know.

'Sam, who are you meant to be?'

'Cas haven't you watched any movies? I'm Captain Jack Sparrow,' said Sam in a great impersonation, even imitating the flamboyant (and often drunk) body movements that Jack Sparrow did.

'You appear to be a drunken peasant with long hair and a ridiculous hat.'

'Aye,' said Sam, 'but I've lost my jar of dirt.'

'... I don't understand.'

'Forget it, Cas. You have to see the movie.'

'I assume there is a reason you called me here, apart from showing me that you are capable of dressing up as fictional characters to celebrate a Pagan tradition?' Said Castiel monotonously. Party pooper.

'Of course there was a reason,' said Dean, clapping a hand to Castiel's shoulder, 'We can't have you going as the holy tax accountant,' he gestured to Castiel's clothes.

'Going where?' Castiel hadn't caught on, even as Sam inched closer to him with the plastic bag.

'Well Cas, how do you feel about doing good deeds?'

'Considering I'm an angel of the Lord, you'd hope that doing good deeds is high on my list of hobbies,' he said sarcastically, making Dean smirk... Obviously hanging out on Earth with the Winchester's was having a profound effect on the angel.

'How about doing favours which lead to good deeds?'

'Are you asking a favour of me, Dean Winchester?' He said gravelly.

'We are asking a favour,' corrected Sam, giving Castiel that puppy dog look that wins so many hearts over. Unfortunately, Castiel's heart seemed not to be won over.

'What... favour?' Castiel asked cautiously. Sam held his breath and pulled the costume out of the bag. Dean pursed his lips so he wouldn't burst into a fit of hysterics. Castiel stared at the costume for a long moment before staring at Sam.

'Absolutely not.'

'Oh please Cas, please?' Begged Sam, while Dean sniggered, going red in the face.

'That... outfit... is so wrong. Not to mention the anatomy. How are these,' he held up one part of the costume, 'meant to hold myself up?'

Sam and Dean rolled their eyes.

'It's a damn costume Cas. It's not meant to make sense. Put it on,' ordered Dean.

'I don't think so.'

'Put it on or we'll holy oil your ass to the confines of this room,' threatened Dean. Cas glared at him.

'You'll owe me for eternity Dean Winchester.'

'Sure, sure, anything.'

'You too, Sam,' he turned on Sam and pierced him with his blue gaze.

'Ok, ok, eternity of service and gratitude bla bla,' Sam shooed his hand away at Cas whom was holding the costume in his hands, Dean pushing him into the bathroom.

Minutes later and the bathroom door cracked open. Dean and Sam stood up.

'I look utterly ridiculous,' muttered Castiel from behind the door.

'Oh come on, don't be a bitch,' said Dean, 'It's funny.'

'This,' Cas stepped out into the room, 'is not humorous in the slightest.'

Sam laughed then covered it, turning it into a cough and Dean was biting the inside of his cheek, his eyes watering as he tried not to laugh.

Cas stood there, wearing a bright, fluffy halo and a long white gown which fell to the ground and covered his bare feet. He scratched at the wings on his back, which were white and made out of plastic, elastic and feathers, with some glitter on the edges. Cas adjusted the elastics on his shoulders.

'This is the worst misconception of angels. Whoever thought of this, is a moron.'

'I'm sure that this description came from the bible, actually,' said Sam. Cas glared at him again.

'It was not meant to be taken literally,' Cas defended.

'Oh well, it could be worse,' said Dean, passing Castiel a beer and opening it, flicking the cap to the side.

'How?' Asked Cas, standing there with the bottle.

'That was the last angel costume at the store. It was either that or a fairy,' said Sam. Castiel's eyes widened before he sat on the bed and had a mouthful of beer.

'So this good deed you're referring to... Was that a lie?' Asked Cas.

'Nope, God's truth. This is all a surprise,' he gestured to the room and its candles, accessories and fake blood on the walls.

'For who?'

Bobby pulled up next to the Impala in the motel's car park, looking around for any signs or danger. He opened the window but couldn't detect any sulphur or cold spots, so he moved out of the car and around to the boot, pulling out various weapons and stuffing them into his jacket and pockets.

He opened the door to the motel and it seemed empty. He frowned, pulling the knife from his jacket sleeve into his hand.

'Hello?' He called out. A chair spun around from behind the desk, making Bobby clutch at his heart.

'Welcome, to the hotel of Horrors!' Said a woman, clearly dressed up as Morticia Addams.

Bobby pulled the knife back up his sleeve.

'I'm looking for the room that Mr. Led and Mr. Harrison are in?'

The woman looked down a list, running a black painted fingernail down it.

'Room 46,' she pointed down the hallway, 'Have an excellent night, mortal.'

'Oh I will,' Bobby muttered moving down the hallway, swatting at cobwebs that clung to his head. He reached the door of 46 and knocked quietly, two quick, one slow, two quick and waited for an answer. Bobby tried turning the handle, but the door was locked. He frowned and looked at his sticky hand, his pulse quickening; blood. He slid the knife from his sleeve.

'Sam? It's Bobby.' He called through the crack. He heard a click and the door opened just the slightest bit. Bobby hesitated, and then slid the knife through the crack before opening the door. There was no one there but the room looked like a ritual site; blood on the walls and floor, candles lit around the room, books thrown about, weapons on the beds and stuck in the walls. The windows were open, letting in a cool breeze. Bobby moved forward slowly, looking around the empty room, before spotting something on the table. It was a blank note. He flipped it over, but it was blank on the other side too.

There was a sudden movement in Bobby's peripheral vision and he froze again, listening to where it had moved to. Suddenly the windows slammed shut and the noise of thunder rattled through the room, followed by lightning that lit the room with blasts of white, highlighting shadows in a stark contrast and Bobby span around in horror. In the top corner of the room was a dark figure with bright eyes. He was in all black and wore a black cape and a symbol on his chest that Bobby recognised instantly. He had seen the movies and read the comics when he was younger. Bobby held his knife tighter.

'Bobby,' said the Batman in a dark, deep voice before leaping down from the corner of the ceiling in a fluid movement and landing on his feet.

'Batman, I presume?' Said Bobby sarcastically, brandishing his knife.

'Nice coat,' said the Batman. Bobby frowned.

'Batman begins, 2005. Shame, I was hoping for the original Batman. Where's Robin?' Said Bobby, feeling around for salt in his pocket.

'Looking for this?' The Batman held up Bobby's small bag of salt.

'Balls,' muttered Bobby, before lunging at the Batman, but before he could slice him, the bathroom door burst open and a pirate ran out, before stopping at the sight of them.

'Oh...' Said the Captain, 'Apparently there's some sort of high-toned and fancy to-do up, eh? How could it be that two upstanding gentlemen, such as yourselves, did not merit an invitation?'

'Shut it, pirate, this has nothing to do with you,' growled the Batman. Bobby looked between the two, baffled.

'Nigh, the names Captain Jack Sparrow, bat-boy, savvy?'

'You've got to be kidding me,' said Bobby, not sure who to turn the knife onto.

'Ah!' said Captain Jack, 'He wishes to duel. Put it away son, it's not worth you getting beat again.'

'Leave the civilian alone,' said the Batman, flicking his cape back.

'Look here, bat-boy, he's no civilian, comin' here, brandishing a weapon...' Jack Sparrow stumbled slightly. Bobby put the knife down as he saw another figure emerge from the bathroom door. Captain Jack turned around and stood next to the Batman.

'Castiel?' Asked Bobby, completely perplexed. The lights came on and Bobby turned to the Batman and pirate.

'Dean? Sam?' Bobby had gone from confused to almost outraged in a second.

'Damn it, Cas. You didn't wait for you cue!' Said Dean the Batman.

'I forgot my cue.'

'Great,' sighed the pirate, taking off his hat. Bobby put the knife away, crossing his arms.

'You idjits! You scared me half to death!'

Sam and Dean cracked an identical smile before laughing. Castiel pursed his lips, though Bobby could tell he was laughing inside. Bobby could feel his cheeks burning.

'Sam, you call me here, making me think that hell had broken loose, again...'

'Happy Halloween, Bobby!' Said Sam, passing Bobby a cold beer. Bobby just glared at him.

'Oh come on, Bobby, even Cas dressed up,' said Dean, taking off his Batman mask.

Bobby smirked at Cas's obvious embarrassment.

'I had no choice in the matter.'

'Oh sure, sure. Whatever you say Castiel. Nice wings,' said Bobby, taking a seat as the brothers sniggered at Castiel.

'Cas provided the special effects as well,' said Dean, nodding to Cas, who sat down on the bed.

'So you idjits call me here, to try and scare me on Halloween? You hate Halloween,' said Bobby, drinking his beer.

'Oh, I'm sorry, were you doing something important?' Asked Sam sarcastically.

'As a matter of fact, I was.'

'Which was?-'

There was a knock at the door. Everyone looked to Sam who rolled his eyes, 'I'll get it.'

'I have better things to do,' grumbled Bobby, setting his beer down.

'Oh,' said Dean, looking disheartened. Cas looked down as well. Bobby sighed and rolled his eyes.

'I thought you might have wanted to spend it with your family,' said Sam, bringing over boxes of pizza and a bag of garlic breads and soft drink. Bobby tried hard not to smile. Sam held out a box to Bobby but then looked upset and went to pull it away, 'Well if you don't want to be here, I guess you can-'

Bobby snatched the box from him and smiled genuinely. Sam smiled back.

'Sit down, princess. You too, Cas,' said Bobby, moving his chair over and Cas looked at them, mildly surprised, before joining them at the small rickety table. Bobby held up his beer.

'To family.'

The four men clinked their bottles and had a sip, before tucking into their pizzas. The brothers hassled Cas about his halo and Bobby remarked Dean on his fake six pack on his costume, while Sam tried to explain the movies to Cas, who struggled with the concept of a Pirate named after a bird and a man with a fear of bats. Dean and Bobby drank more, their conversation getting louder with every bottle.

Soon, Sam was drifting off to sleep at the table and Cas had changed back into his suit and trench coat, nodding everyone a good night before disappearing with a flutter. Dean was clearing away the bottles and prodding Sam to wake up; half carrying his 6'3 frame to the bed and collapsing him on there. Dean yawned, bleary eyed and Bobby took off his hat and scratched his head. Dean wouldn't let Bobby drive, but offered him his bed to sleep on, while Dean would take the two-seater sofa. After a drunken, pointless argument, Dean won and Bobby fell onto the bed. After a moment, he heard Dean softly snoring, Sam breathing heavily, and Bobby smiled to himself sleepily.

This is my family, he thought as he stared at the fake-blood stained wall, watching the candle dim to a low flame. He slid the knife under his pillow and put his gun on the bed side table, listening to his family sleep in the dusty old room. He wouldn't have it any other way.