(REWRITTEN!)
This chapter follows the story line of It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester (season 4 episode 7, I believe?)
"Boys and girls of every age, would you like to see something strange?"
October 31, 2008
Dean sticks his hand in the three-pound bag of Halloween candy. He had just purchased it yesterday, and there is nothing left. He digs past the little pouches of candy corn, bypasses the Smarties, and disregards the Dubble Bubble. (How is gum considered candy, Halloween store? How? Dumb asses.) Dean ends up finding an electric blue Tootsie Roll and sighs in defeat as he unwraps it and sticks it in his mouth. It doesn't taste like the blue raspberry that it claims to taste like, but everything else (at least everything good) is gone already.
"Really?" Sam, who is sitting at the tiny motel table, glances up from the book he's reading to shoot Dean an angry look. "After that guy choked down those razor blades?"
Dean strides back to his brother, struggling with getting the Tootsie Roll out of his teeth. The candy makes him lisp when he talks.
"C'mon Shammy it'sh Halloween!"
Sam snorts. "Yeah, for us, every day is Halloween."
"Don't be a downer, little brother. Did you find anythin' intereshting?"
"Well," Sam gestures to the hex bag in front of him, "We're on a witch hunt, that's for sure. But this isn't your typical hex bag."
"In what way?" Dean says, finally getting the candy from out of his teeth.
"See this?" Sam holds up a dry, old plant. "It's Goldthread. A herb that's been extinct for two hundred years."
"Damn," answers Dean. "What else?"
"This piece of silver right here? It's Celtic, and I don't mean some new age knockoff. It looks like the real deal, like 600 years old real."
"So what's this then?" Dean asks, pointing to a piece of something.
He picks it up gingerly, examining it. It had burned to the point of cracking, and Dean thinks that it looks like an overdone chicken bone.
"That is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby," Sam reports after a quick glance at the book.
"Euggh!" Dean cries, throwing it on the table. "Gross!"
"Relax, man," Sam teases. "It's at least a hundred years old."
"So like that makes it better?" Dean shudders. "Witches, man. They're so fuckin' skeevy."
"Not all witches though."
Back at his bed, Dean looks up from the laptop with a frown at his brother.
"Uh, yeah. Yes, all witches. Skeevy, creepy, murderous, bloodthirsty things, witches are."
"What about Bella?" Sam says.
"What about her?" Dean says suspiciously.
"I don't know," Sam pauses. "She's pretty, isn't she?"
Dean narrows his eyes. "What are you doin'?"
"Nothing! I'm just saying that she's hot, right?"
"No."
"Oh come on, not even a little bit?"
"Not."
"You know," a smirk spreads across Sam's face. "I saw the internet history."
"And?" Dean asks icily.
"You Googled her, dude. And you didn't think I'd see that?"
Dean 's jaw almost drops open in surprise. Okay, it is now official, he needs to figure out how to clear the Google one letter search thing because his brother is like some goddamn soccer mom.
"It was research," Dean covers up. "I was lookin' to see if she had a record. You know, wanted for vicious murder or somethin'."
"Mhmm."
"What do you mean 'mhmm'?"
"Oh nothing," Sam shrugs idly. "You-her- I mean, there was some significant sexual tension going on, Dean."
"Fuck no. Bella's a fuckin' witch Sam!" Dean shouts. "She'd probably slit my throat and drink my blood or somethin'!"
"Who are you trying to convince, Dean? Me or you?" Sam's phone rings and he grabs it before finishing his remark, "Because you couldn't stop staring at her ass back in Albany. You weren't exactly subtle about it. "
Dean gives the back of Sam's head a fierce glare, the one that can paralyze vampires and petrify demons into submission. But his brother doesn't even turn around. As Sam talks on the phone, Dean goes back to the laptop and searches 'how to clear your Google search history.' After learning how to do just that, he types Bella's name in the search bar, and presses enter. Porn sites flood the page. Dean's eyes widen, and he clicks on the first thing he sees. It's a website for a bar and dance club up in Toronto. He goes a step further and clicks on the 'meet our girls' tab. Bella's face is the third one down. It's one of those professional headshot pictures, and her hair is dyed to look like fire. Apparently, she works for this bar. Dean wonders if she strips for them too. He'll have to ask. For research purposes. It's not like he cares or anything.
"Dean?" Sam says urgently.
"Yeah?" Dean says, his eyes still on Bella's picture.
"Someone else died."
"Really?" Dean groans. "Sonofabitch."
The brothers rush out to the Impala and slide in quickly. Luckily, the vic's house isn't that far away from the motel, and at the rate, Dean is driving, the brothers make it in under five minutes. They get out of the car, shrug on their suit coats, and walk over to the house where an apple bobbing incident has left one teenage girl dead. The city police are already at the scene, and the Winchesters flash their Fed badges at the sheriff.
"Oh, agents," says the man. "One of yours is already here."
"What?" Sam says, surprised.
Dean elbows Sam and gives him a little nod at the woman in the FBI jacket and hat. She turns around, and Dean gets a jolt as he sees that this hunter-playing-Fed is Bella.
"Oh. Yes, she came ahead of us. We were working on another case before we came here and were just finishing up when we got your call," Sam lies smoothly.
"Nice one," Dean says under his breath.
"All right. Glad you're here. Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help."
"Thank you, Sheriff."
The sheriff nods at the hunters and walks away back to his men. They huddle close together, mumbling under their breath about a possible overheating incident. Something about the water being boiled before the game and not cooling properly before the teens went bobbing. Dean dismisses that because as he knows, that's absolute bullshit. Besides, who would be stupid enough to boil water before sticking their face in it? Not even teenagers are that dumb. (Well, okay. Maybe Dean was that dumb. But not idiotic enough to boil water before sticking his damn face in it, all right?)
"I'll check for hex bags," Sam says. "Go talk to Bella."
"Why do I have to?" Dean says grumpily.
Sam shrugs. "Because you want to sleep with her."
"No, I do-"
"Good luck!" Sam says.
Grumbling at his brother, Dean strides confidently over to Bella. She's questioning a very scared looking teenage girl. Dean straightens his tie and clears his throat importantly.
"Agent," he says.
Bella twists around and raises an eyebrow as she looks Dean over.
"Agent," she replies. "Kelsey was just telling me what happened."
'Oh, good. And did Kelsey say whether or not she knew Luke Wallace?" Dean inquires.
"She doesn't know him," Bella answers.
Dean waves his hand. "Kelsey, you can go."
"Thank you," Bella adds.
The girl scurries away and goes to huddle up with her group of friends. They all have identical looks of fear and sadness on their faces.
"So," Dean says to Bella. "What do you have so far?"
"Luke Wallace swallowed razor blades, this girl's face was boiled off. I have a theory, but I need more," Bella says.
"What's your theory?"
"I don't want to tell you yet. I need more evidence to further clear things up."
"And what did Kelsey tell you?"
"She doesn't know Luke Wallace. She wasn't even friends with the other vic. And she said that as soon as the girl died, her friend ran out of the house and down the street screaming."
Dean raises an eyebrow. "Who was the friend?"
"I'm getting to that," Bella answers.
"And how do you know that Kelsey was telling the truth?"
"Her energy didn't feel like it was a lie."
"Her energy?" Dean says.
"Yeah, you know. Kelsey's aura or whatever."
"You can feel that?"
Bella bobs her head. "All natural borns can."
"Hmm. That's kinda awesome."
At that moment, Sam appears. As he approaches the two hunters disguised as Feds, he pulls a hex bag from his coat pocket.
"This was behind the couch," he says. "Hi, Bella."
"Hi, Sam."
"Another hex bag?" Dean asks.
Sam nods. "Let's go back to the motel and dissect this. Bella, you want in?"
Bella sighs, rubbing her forehead. "Yeah."
"She has a theory," Dean tells Sam.
"You do?"
"Mmm," hums Bella. "And this hex bag has just added to the proof."
"Agent Sutcliffe," a policeman walks up to Bella, "Are you finished questioning the kids?"
"Yes," she says. "Tell 'em to go home and take a warm, relaxing shower or something, Deputy."
"Will do."
"Oh, you're Stu Sutcliffe?" Dean says as the Deputy walks away. "Like the old bassist for the Beatles?"
"Yeah. You approve?" she asks Dean.
"A girl after my own heart."
The two grin at each other and Dean can't help but look straight in those sharp eyes of hers. They sparkle up at him intelligently. Their little moment breaks when Bella coughs a little, a light pinkish hue painted across her cheeks.
"We should go," she mutters.
"Follow us back to our motel, okay?" Sam says.
The three begin to walk down the driveway and through the street. Bella pulls off her hat as soon as they're far enough away from the police. Dean watches it cascade down her back in tight curls. It's now lavender, like the sky at sunset. Dean wants to run his fingers through it. Was it as soft as it looked? Bella does that sexy thing that girls do where they run their hand through the top part of their hair and flip half of it to one side. He loves watching her fingers, wanting those black-tipped nails leaving marks down his back as he thrust into her. Wait, what? Again with this, Winchester?
"That color is again FBI regulations," Dean says instead.
"I like it," Sam adds.
"Why, thank you, Sam," Bella answers. "And Winchester, I believe the rule is that you can have dyed hair so as long as it's covered up. So with the hat, I'm okay."
The little group stops in front of the Impala and Bella waves vaguely down the street.
"My car is down that way."
"Our motel's on Sparrow Street. Room 17," Sam tells her.
"Okay. Meet you there in five," says Bella.
With a whirl of lavender, she's gone, walking briskly to her car. Dean watches her go, enjoying the way her legs look sticking out of the borderline illegally short dress. They're in some tiny Midwestern town in the middle of fall, and yet, Bella's legs are managing to look gloriously tan. Dean wonders how they would look wrapped around his waist. Wait, what? Fuck! As soon as Bella is out of sight (and out of mind), Dean turns to the Impala and gets into the driver's seat.
"How come she calls you Sam, but I get Winchester?" Dean says to Sam.
Sam grins. "I thought you didn't care?"
"I don't!" Dean defends, and Sam snorts derisively. "I DON'T! I just wish she'd call me Dean."
Sam's grin widens. "Uh-huh, sure. Just admit that you love it and you want to sleep with her."
"I do not!" Dean says harshly.
"You do," Sam shoots back.
"Bitch."
"Jerk... And you so want her."
"Shut up, Sam!"
Dean shoots an angry look at his brother. He so does not want to roll a damn witch around in the sheets, for fuck's sake! What doesn't Sammy understand? Finally, the Impala turns into the parking lot of the motel and Dean parks right across from Bella's red car. He locks up his Baby and trails Sam to their motel room, where Bella is waiting outside, smoking a cigarette.
"You smoke?" Dean asks.
He totally was not imagining those perfect red lips wrapped around his- Wait, what?
"It's pretty much just a small joint," Bella explains. "Not enough to get me high."
"Really? Why?" Sam says.
"Pretending to be a Fed gets me nervous."
"Don't smoke it in here," Dean commands.
"Yes'm," Bella says, rolling her eyes.
She throws the butt of the joint onto the concrete and stomps it out with her high heeled shoe before following Dean inside. Sam already has the hex bag unwrapped and is staring at the contents.
"Same as the Wallace one," he reports.
"What?" Bella asks.
"Goldthread, Celtic coin, baby bone."
"Porca troia," Bella mumbles to herself, "I so did not want to be right. But Lottie saw it. Damn."
"Do you wanna share with the class?" says Dean.
"It's a spell," Bella answers slowly.
"We worked that out, funnily enough."
Bella runs her hand through her hair, still mumbling to herself.
"Three sacrifices over three days, the last one before midnight on the final day of the final harvest. Porca troia, this is bad."
"What are the blood sacrifices for, Bella?"
Bella looks at Sam and then Dean, as though she had forgotten that they were there.
"Samhain," she says. "A witch is raising Samhain."
"Who's that?"
"He's the damn origin of Halloween, Dean," Sam says, looking uneasy. "He got exorcised centuries ago. We need to stay on our toes."
"Samhain the demon was named after the Pagan Sabbat Samhain," Bella explains, pronouncing the second Samhain like 'SOW-in,' "It's a festival that honors dead loved ones, and it's when the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest. The dead walk among the living on Samhain, which is where the idea of dressing up in costume came from. It's to hide from the dead. It's one of the Sabbats that my coven celebrates. I would be there now if this weren't as big of a problem as it is."
"So your holiday of Samhain is what one of the most dangerous demons in the world is named? That's not satanic or anything," Dean says.
Bella glares at him. "I'm sure it was one of you who decided that!"
"One of us?"
"Yes, you witch-hunters! You're always judging us witches with your close-minded, asshole ideas! Excuse us for not being exactly like you! Excuse us for worshipping goddesses and chanting! Excuse us for-"
"For killing innocent people, for raisin' demons, for burnin' babies' bones, for doing fuckin' evil shit?" Dean mocks.
"This is not the work of a natural born!" Bella yells. "This is a demonic witch!"
"You're all the same in my book. Evil and need to be ganked," replies Dean.
"Shut up, just shut up! What do you know? You know NOTHING, you fucking hunter jerk!" Bella shouts, her fingers twitching, and at the last word, the light above them blows out.
"What the hell did you do?" Dean growls.
"You pissed me off!" Bella cries.
"Oh, so you blow up a light fixture?"
She rolls her eyes. "Oh my Goddesses, would you give it a rest? In case you haven't noticed, we're in trouble here, Winchester!"
"I knew I should have killed you when I had the chance," Dean mutters.
"What?" Bella shouts. "What was that? I didn't hear you!"
"I said I should have killed you when I had the chance!"
"Hmm?"
"GODDAMN IT, I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE!" Dean yells in his authoritative hunter voice.
But Bella doesn't back down. Instead, she glares right back at him, and the light next to the bed flickers as though ridiculing Dean. She curls her finger in a come-hither gesture. It would be hot if Dean weren't ready to slice her in half.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Bella asks. "I got nothing to lose, kid. Bring it on."
"Hold on," Sam says. "What do you mean you have nothing to lose?"
"It's nothing."
"Bella-"
"No, Sam."
"Bella, you can tell me," Sam murmurs.
"Fine," she swallows audibly. "About a week ago, my friend Annie was almost attacked by hunters. I sent them away, but then they found another witch from our coven, Dani. She was doing a simple spell, something about making her nose smaller or something, but the hunters heard her chanting in a ring of candles and took her out. She died instantly, no fancy lights or screaming. Which is not what your boys expected, I heard. Apparently, they thought witches burst into flames or something after you kill them," Bella murmurs, sagging against the wall.
There are a few moments of silence. Dean feels a small wave of pity, but then yells at himself and squashes it down.
"I'm so sorry Bella," Sam replies.
"Thanks, but we're all pretty angry at hunters right now," Bella says. "We lost a sister because of you assholes, and we didn't even get to bury her. Your boys burned her body, on a stake no less, before we could get to it."
"So, I'm confused," interrupts Dean. "Hunters were after your one friend, but you sent them away? How?"
"Is that really what you're getting out of this? I was protecting Annie, and they killed another natural born."
"She was a witch."
"Wow," Bella snorts violently. "Thanks for your concern. They murdered my damn friend in cold blood."
"The less of you, the better, sweetheart," Dean remarks.
Her eyes widen, and her lips curl up into a sneer. But Dean notices that she's fighting back some tears. Okay, maybe he went too far. Wait, what? No, he didn't!
"Fuck you, Winchester. God, I hate you so much! We deserve to live as much as the next guy! Forget it; I'm out of here. I'm done."
"Wait, Bella. My brother's sorry he's acting like such a moron. Aren't you Dean?" Sam says.
"No."
Sam runs his hand over his face. "Oh, for fuck's sake Dean."
With another roll of her eyes (Dean wonders how she can do it so often without getting a headache), Bella stalks out of the room. She lets the door slam closed with a 'bang,' forceful enough that the windows rattle. Dean realizes that Sam is glowering at him.
"What?"
"If you want to hit that, I suggest not acting like such a dick."
Dean pulls an innocent, confused face. "What did I do?"
"You're treating her like a monster!" Sam cries.
"Because she is one, Sam! How many good witches other than Glinda do we even know?!"
"Don't you think if she wanted to kill us, we'd be dead already, Dean?"
"Maybe she's bindin' her time, waiting for us to let our guard down before-"
"Dean," a gruff voice intervenes.
Sam and Dean turn to see who the speaker is. Sam immediately pulls his gun out, but Dean knows who this is.
"Sam, calm down. This is Castiel."
A second angel appears, and Dean pulls a face as the guy turns to stare out the window.
"And him I don't know."
Sam approaches Castiel hesitantly, gazing at him with something akin to awe.
"Hello Sam," Castiel says slowly.
"Oh my God," Sam lowers his gun, stuttering nervously, "I-err-I'm sorry-It's an honor-I-I've heard so much about you!"
"And I you," the angel replies. "Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood."
Sam's face falls. "I-"
"I'm glad to see you've ceased those activities," Castiel finishes.
"Let's keep it that way," the angel near the window says slowly.
"Yeah, he'll keep that in mind, Chuckles," says Dean. "Who's your friend, Cas?"
"This raising of Samhain?" Castiel asks, ignoring Dean's question. "Have you stopped it?"
"Why?"
"Dean, have you located the witch?"
"We're-uh-we're workin' on it."
Castiel looks upset, weirdly enough. Dean has never seen any expression but quiet disdain for all humankind on his face.
"You do not know who she is?"
"It's a process, Cas."
"Well, that's quite unfortunate."
"Why?" Dean asks again.
"The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals," Castiel says.
"So this is about your buddy Lucifer?"
The angel shakes his head. "Lucifer is no friend of ours."
Dean raises an eyebrow. Sarcasm just goes right over the head of this guy, doesn't it? Damn, take a joke, you feathery dick.
"He cannot rise, Dean. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs," Castiel reminds.
"Why don't you tell us who she is and where, so we can gank her and all go home?"
"We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful and cloaked even from us."
Sam clears his throat. "Look, guys, if we just work together-"
"Enough of this," the other angel snaps, finally turning around.
"Yeah, okay," Dean says. "So, who are you and why should I care?"
"This is Uriel. He's what you might call a specialist," sighs Castiel.
"A specialist?" Sam repeats.
Castiel nods. "We recommend that you and Dean leave this town immediately."
"Why?"
"Because we're going to destroy it."
The song is "This is Halloween." I was thinking of the original version, but I do like the P!atD version.