A/N: I've been thinking about doing a Día de los Muertos Supernatural story for a while and I finally got a cemented idea for it. It will be a three-shot, so I'm hoping the chapters will be longer than my standard. The main reason I wanted to do a Día de los Muertos story is because not only is it the day Mary died (November 2nd, or as we all know it six months after Sam was born), but if I can make assumptions it is the same day Jess died. (The first episode starts on Halloween, I assume from all the costumes and décor, and Dean promised to return Sam by Monday, which makes Saturday November 1st and that Sunday the 2nd), plus this show loves parallels. So between that and the Día de los Muertos lore it seemed like a natural fit. Hope you all enjoy.

Disclaimer: Kripke's

Desde el Corazón

Part One: All Hallows' Eve

"Camila, I thought you were going to stay in and hand out candy to trick-or-treaters."

The dark haired, sixteen year old turned to face her father, hands clasped up by her ear trying to put in an earring. "I thought I told you last week I was going to a party with my friends.

"No. Camila, what's going on? You've been so distant lately," her father pushed on.

"I'm a teenager. Aren't I suppose to be distant?"

"Camila," her father said exasperated.

"She's fine Steve. Camilita told me," said an older woman as she came up behind Steve in the doorway.

Camila flashed a smile in her direction. "Thank you abuelita."

"You can go, but I want you back by midnight," said Steve.

She sighed, but gave her father a quick hug. "I promise I will."

He gave her a small smile and a quick peck on the forehead. "Be careful."

"I will."

He left the room, but Camila's abuela still stood in the doorway. She entered Camila's room and sat down on her bed. "Camilita, is there anything you want to tell me? You can trust me."

Camila looked at her reflection in her vanity mirror and sighed. She picked up the lighter foundation and a makeup sponge, beginning the process to give herself a ghostly appearance. "Tell me a story."

Her abuela shook her head slightly, knowing she was deflecting something. "Anything in particular nieta?"

Camila put down the makeup sponge and picked up her eyeliner. "Something to distract me."

"Do you know how Halloween came to be?"

"No," she said a bit intrigued as she leaned closer to the mirror and held the eyeliner pen to her eyelid.

"Well," began her abuela, "long ago the Welsh and the Celtic thought that at the end of fall, before the winter darkness descended on them, the spirits had the chance to come back to the land of the living to visit their descendants or to seek vengeance on those who wronged them. People would leave out food to appease them and set places for them at tables. As the tradition expanded it changed as different cultures touched it. It evolved to a tradition were the poor would disguise themselves in costumes and perform tricks or promise to pray for a departed soul in exchange for food. Carved turnips were used to light their way in the night. When the tradition carried over to North America it became carved pumpkins. Much of the folklore suggests that it is the night were supernatural creatures are most active."

Camila switched to mascara and unscrewed the tube. "But why is it called Halloween?"

"It used to be called All Hallows' Eve as it was the day before All Hallows' Day."

"Oh," she put the mascara down and reached for blood red lipstick. She opened the cap and smeared it evenly across her lips. "Do you think Mom would come back?"

Her abuela shook her head sadly, finally understanding what Camila did not want to say. "Camilita, it's just a story."

She sat the makeup down and turned to face her abuela. "I know, but if she had the chance, would she?"

"I don't think so, not for that. She's in a better place now. You'll see her again nieta."

Camila stood up and held her hands out to her side. "How do I look?"

"What are you supposed to be?"

"Una Mujer en Blanca. My friends and I are going as supernatural creatures."

Her abuela shook her head. "I don't think I will ever understand this generation's fascination with these characters from horror stories. Vampires, Werewolves, what is it even now?"

"Zombies."

"See? I can't even keep up."

Camila laughed and kissed her abulea's forehead. "Have fun passing out mini-Snickers to the kids."

"I do every year don't I?"

"As long as I've been born."

-o-O-o-

"We should probably stop for the night," suggested Sam.

"Come on Sammy, me and Baby can go for a couple more hours," argued Dean.

"Yeah, well this," Sam gestured to the general vicinity of the passenger seat, "is not an ideal place for me to sleep."

"So? Move to the back seat when we stop."

"That really doesn't help"

"It's not my fault you're so friggin' tall."

"Why are we even going to Tequila anyway?"

Dean stared at Sam. "Do I really need to explain it?"

Sam stared right back at Dean. "Yes! All you said this morning was 'we're going on a road trip' and when I asked where you said 'Tequila, Mexico'. Dean, that's not really an answer."

"It's in the name. Tequila. Why wouldn't we go there?"

"Because it's a twenty-six hour drive and we have fake passports."

Dean held up his pointer finger. "One, twenty-six hours isn't that long of a trip." He lifted his middle finger. "And two, all our ID's are fake. We flash fake FBI badges to legit police almost every friggin' day. Are you really going to flip over fake passports?"

"Border patrol actually sees real fake ID's every day Dean. They know what to look for."

"Plus, you know Spanish."

"I took one class my freshman year and that qualifies me to be the translator on your impromptu road trip?"

"Yes."

Sam groaned.

"They have tours with free samples. Free."

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not going to win this one am I?"

"No."

"Since you forced me on this trip the least you could do is find some kind of motel within the next hour instead of cramming me in the back."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine. You didn't used to be this picky. What happened?"

"I think it's the years of shitty motel rooms catching up to me. Or maybe it's the fact you dragged me out of my bed in the bunker this morning. Take your pick."

Dean snorted. "Bitch."

Sam couldn't help, but crack a smile. "Jerk." He looked out the window and pointed at a sign as the sped past. "There's a town in five miles. We can stop there and then pick up where we left off tomorrow."

"Fine, but be ready bright and early. We'll still have around a thirteen hour drive ahead of us."

Sam settled back down in the passenger seat. "Sure Dean, just wake me up when we get there."

Dean scoffed, but let his brother sleep. It didn't take long for the Impala to make its way to the small town of Muerte, Texas, the sun already disappeared in the horizon and the waxing moon casting an eerie glow over the town. He pulled into the first motel he saw and parked the Impala. Check in was easy as they were the only ones filling the occupancy at the time. He stepped back outside to get Sam and their duffels out of the Impala; a few trick-or-treaters scampered by with grins, flashlights, and pillow cases full of potential cavities. He opened the passenger door and nudged Sam. "Hey, we're here."

Sam blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes. "That was quick."

"Doesn't take long when we might be this guy's first customers in a month." He tossed him his duffel and walked towards their motel room. He unlocked the room and cringed at the décor. It was tackier than they were used to as it had been a while since they had to stay at motels ever since they settled down at the bunker. He assumed the wallpaper was supposed to resemble rock formations and canyons, the divider between the "sitting area" and the beds were little cacti, and the curtains were printed with bright colors and zig zag patterns. "I forgot how-"

"Tacky?"

Dean threw his duffel down on one of the beds. "I was going to go with God awful, but that works too." He poked one of the little cacti. "But I give it a few points for creativity. You know how many of these had chicks on them? A lot, that's what I remember."

"How can you even remember them? You were on the road longer than me. Shouldn't they all melt together?"

"Maybe they have." He flopped down on the bed which smelt musty, but clean. "Get some shut eye Sammy. We've got some traveling to do tomorrow."

-o-O-o-

"Cam! Come on, it'll be fun!"

She bit into a candy apple and glanced over at her friend dressed as a vampire: pale faced and blood dripping from the corners of her mouth. "But it sucks, every year. There's nothing scary about the haunted house once you turn thirteen, Angela."

Angela wrapped an arm around Camila's shoulders. "I heard they worked in an extra wing this year."

"Ooo," said a boy dressed as a werewolf: all fake fur and plaid. "Because that is sure to make it extra scary."

Angela punched him in the shoulder. "Don't be a dick Isaac."

Camila bit into her apple again as she watched her friends bicker back and forth. She rolled her eyes; it was only a matter of time before the two realized there was a bit more than friendly arguing behind all of it. Just behind Angela's head she thought she saw something move. She didn't think anything of it until a ghostly hand appeared between her bickering friends, reached out towards Camila. She screamed.

"What's up with you," asked Isaac.

The hand disappeared, but Camila felt a chill run across her body. "Did you see that?"

"What? You must be just hallucinating."

Camila turned to look all around her, but she saw nothing. The chill crept up from her shoulder to her ear. "Help me." She screamed again; she knew that voice.

-o-O-o-

Sam rolled over, restless. The moon's light came in through the thin curtains and his bed was conveniently placed right in front of one. He had been trying to sleep for the past hour, but nothing had happened. He turned again and heard Dean snoring on the next bed over. Of course Dean was asleep. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. A flicker of light caught his attention, but he didn't think anything more of it than the curtain moving in the moonlight. Suddenly the room grew cold and Sam shivered a bit. Then, at the foot of the bed, a little boy appeared.

He was wearing a shirt with a Scooby Doo screen print on it, jeans, little sneakers and when he took a hesitant step closer Sam noticed they lit up. His hair was ruffled and he looked scared. He looked down at the boy's throat and saw multi-colored bruises that were shaped as clear outlines of fingers. "It's okay. I won't hurt you," whispered Sam.

His eyes grew wide.

Sam sat up. "Can you tell me your name?"

He parted his lips and two words came out. "Help me."

He disappeared and Sam threw the covers off of himself. He padded over to Dean's bed and roughly nudged his shoulder. Dean grunted and turned over to face Sam. "What is it? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"There was a ghost. Here."

"Really," asked Dean.

"Yes, looks like we won't be leaving here anytime soon."

Dean groaned and let his head fall back on the pillow. "Son of a bitch."

A/N: For the curious reader Muerte, TX is not real, but Tequila is. My Spanish teacher visited it when she was in Mexico.