IX

It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

"Ahoy, Mateys," Lee declared, stepping out of the bathroom. Lee, Sam and Dean all turned to look at her, Lee from where she was sitting beside Sam, reading, Sam from where he sat on the bed looking up the next case, and Dean from where he sat at the motel room table, dozing.

"What in the…?" Lee trailed, stifling a laugh. Dean grinned.

Sam spoke first, "Rachel, why are you dressed like a pirate?"

Rachel laughed loudly. "Uh, maybe because it's almost Halloween and I am obsessed with Halloween," she retorted.

Sam groaned, and Dean chuckled, standing and walking over to appraise Rachel's costume.

"Sorry to break it to you, but my brother here hates Halloween," he told her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine. But me and Lee go trick or treating every year, and I'm not about to break that tradition; especially since I don't have to work the late shift at the hospital this year."

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise, turning to look at Lee. "Really?" he mocked.

Lee rolled her eyes. "Shut up!" she responded, shoving a pillow in his face as he laughed.

"Great, so you can be a parrot to go with my pirate costume, okay?" Rachel asked speedily, ducking into the bathroom.

"Oi! I am NOT going to be a damn parrot, lady!" Lee called after her, jumping up and running into the bathroom where her friend could be heard cracking up. The door slammed shut behind them.

Dean sighed, a small smile still on his face as he looked over at his brother. "You know, It might be fun to dress up this year…" he didn't finish, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he saw the annoyed look on the younger Winchester's face.

The girls stumbled out of the bathroom; Rachel now dressed in regular clothes, Lee still in her Pjs.

"Hey guys, get this: A man was found dead in his home, having coughed up razorblades after eating some store bought candy. Man's name was Luke Wallace—"

"Oh my god," Lee exclaimed, jumping on the bed to look over Sam's shoulder. He tilted the screen towards her, and she read eagerly.

"Huh, guess it could be our kind of thing… then again, it could just be some psycho trying to get to kids… I mean it is almost Halloween… do you think it's worth checking out?" Dean thought aloud, sitting on the other bed next to Rachel.

"I'll answer that, and it's a definite case." Rachel announced.

Lee nodded. "Definitely. Sounds witchy to me. Why don't you and Sam pack while me and Dean grab some road food and check out?" Lee said to Rachel, who nodded.

Dean grunted. "Since when did you two start calling the shots?"

"Since now," Lee ducked under his arm as he held the door open for her.

"Says the woman still in pajamas," Dean replied sarcastically, shutting the door behind them.

"Whelp, let's get started, shall we? Those two are pigs," Rachel looked around the messy room in dismay.

Sam chuckled, handing her one of her shirts off of the ground. "Sure."

"Now, how many razorblades did they find?" Sam asked the distraught woman once again. The brothers had arrived at the crime scene, and were now doing some investigating. Lee and Rachel were checking into a local hotel as Sam and Dean spoke to the wife.

"Um, two on the floor, one in his stomach, and…" the woman's lip trembled as she looked up at Sam with tear-brimmed eyes. "One was stuck in his throat," her voice broke.

"He swallowed four of them. How is that even possible?" she asked incredulously.

Sam shook his head, unsure.

The woman looked over to where Dean stood, examining the oven.

"The candy was never in the oven," she told him.

Dean awkwardly shut the door. "We just have to be thorough, Mrs. Wallace," he assured her.

"Did the police find any razors in the rest of the candy?" Sam questioned.

He woman shook her head, "No—I mean, I don't know, I don't think so. I just… I can't believe it. You hear urban legends about this stuff, but it actually happens?" she asked.

"More than you might imagine," Sam sighed.

Behind her, Dean held up a hex bag he'd found stashed behind the refrigerator.

The brothers shared a knowing look.

"Mrs. Wallace, did Luke have any enemies?" Sam wondered.

"Enemies?"

"Anyone who might have held a grudge against him?" Sam continued.

"What do you mean?" she exclaimed.

"Co workers, neighbors?"

Mrs. Wallace stared at him.

"Maybe a woman?" he suggested.

"Are you suggesting an affair?" the woman marveled, uncrossing her arms in surprise.

"Is it possible?" Sam inquired.

"No! No, Luke would nev—"she broke off, looking away sharply.

"I'm very sorry, we just have to consider all possibilities," Sam grimaced.

"If someone wanted to kill my husband, don't you think they'd find a better way than a razor in a piece of candy he might eat?" she whispered angrily.

Sam looked at his brother, who gazed at him thoughtfully.

Sam flipped through to the next page, holding up the tiny skeleton he'd found in the hex bag. Dean and Rachel entered, Dean chewing on a piece of candy.

"Really? After that guy choked down all those razor blades?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Yeah I know. I told him not to," Rachel glared at Dean's receding back as he approached his brother.

"It's Halloween, man," he mumbled around a full mouth.

Rachel rolled her eyes, plopping down onto one of the beds.

"Yeah, for us every day is Halloween." Sam responded.

"Don't be a downer. Anything interesting?" Dean said.

"Well, we're on a witch hunt, that's for sure," Sam explained.

"No shit, Sherlock," Rachel snorted.

"But this isn't your typical hex bag." Sam continued, ignoring her.

"Why does it feel like whenever I've got dialogue, everyone ignores me?" Rachel mumbled to herself, staring at the ceiling.

"Hmm no?" Dean asked Sam.

"Goldthread: an herb that's been extinct for two hundred years;" Sam held up a leafy plant. "And this is Celtic, and I don't mean some new age knock-off… looks like the real deal—like, 600 years-old real," Sam examined the silvery coin as Dean sniffed another component of the hex bag.

"That is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby," Sam told him.

"Oh, gross," Dean exclaimed.

"Relax, man. It's like at least 100 years old," the younger Winchester explained, examining the bone studiously.

"Oh, right, like that makes it better?" Dean responded.

"Witches, man. They're so freaking skeevy," Dean shuddered.

"I'm with you there, man," Rachel grimaced, walking over to Sam to look at the bone herself. As a nurse, she loved to examine all things medical.

"Yeah, well it takes a pretty powerful one to put together a bag like this," Sam said. "More juice than we've ever dealt with before, that's for sure. What about you—find anything on the victim?" Sam inquired.

"This Luke Wallace—he was so vanilla that he made vanilla seem spicy." Dean described sarcastically.

"Dude, you use the weirdest expressions," Rachel told him.

"Shut up," Dean tossed a candy wrapper at her.

Sam chuckled, and Dean shook his head.

"Alright so the dude's Beautiful Loser one minute, the next he's choking down razor blades? I don't get it." Rachel thought aloud.

"Nothing's coming back to you? From the show in your universe, or whatever?" Sam asked.

"If this was an episode, I sure as hell don't remember it… maybe it was a case y'all worked that we didn't get to see?" she wondered.

"Well, I can't find a reason why somebody would want this guy dead," Dean added, biting his lip.

Suddenly the phone rang, piercing through everyone's thoughtful silence.

Dean answered, and a warbled voice frantically spoke through the speaker.

"Wh-Lee? Lee, slow down. What's going on?" Dean asked, looking worriedly at Sam.

Rachel stared at Dean with wide eyes, curiosity piercing though her.

"What, why were you at the police…. Okay, give me the address, we're on our way—"he was cut off again, as he motioned for Sam to pass him the notepad on the table in front of him.

"Okay, wait what was that last bit again?" he asked, writing it down and nodding.

"Okay, hang tight until we get there," Dean instructed, hanging up and sighing.

"There's been another murder. Apparently Lee was at the police station, looking into whether there had been any more cases when they got the call. They're on their way to the crime scene now, we'll meet her there." Dean explained, grabbing his fed outfit.

"Suit up," he told Sam.

"What was she doing there anyways… what was she thinking, following up on a lead by herself?" Rachel asked.

Dean shrugged, buttoning up his white collared shirt. "I don't know." He responded.

Sam and Dean made their way down the steps to the blue and white tiled crime scene. A forensics officer took pictures of a large tub filled with bobbed apples, while another officer spoke to a witness. Lee noticed them walk in, and said something quickly to the zombie-dressed teen she was interviewing, walking briskly over to them.

"Hey… where's Rachel?" she asked.

"She's waiting in the car. Which is where you would be, too, if you hadn't decided to take on this case as your own? What the hell were you thinking? Too many feds, and it starts to look pretty damn suspicious, Lee, don't you think?" Sam exclaimed.

"Okay first of all, I'm posing as an investigative reporter, and second of all, you can scorn me later. The second death was Hella crazy—crazier than razor blades," she told them. Sam sighed.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"I mean, Nurse Betty over there went to go bob for apples sexily and ended up boiling to death. The other kids tried to pull her out, but it was—get this—as if there was some force holding her down." Lee looked over her shoulder to the petite blonde wrapped in a shock blanket.

"They're all pretty shaken up," she told the brothers, focusing her attention on them once more.

"Look, we gotta find this son of a bitch, but this case is pretty foggy to me. All I really remember is that that blonde is no good, and some teacher of hers is a creepy witch dude… in fact," her eyes widened in realization.

"…They're siblings. All I remember is that they're a big bad sibling witch duo, and that this somehow has a tie in to the bigger problem we've been facing lately," Lee looked up at the Winchesters expectantly.

"The apocalypse?" Sam asked quietly, and Lee nodded gravely.

"Listen, I'd better get out of your hair, guys. Do whatever you'd normally do, and I'll go talk to Rachel." Lee nodded goodbye to them, and Dean grabbed her arm.

"Hey," he said, and Lee looked at him questioningly.

"Good work," he smiled, and Lee grinned, patting his hand before walking away.

Sam and Dean approached the blonde teen.

"'Good work?'" Sam echoed.

"Shut up," Dean muttered. He stopped suddenly, putting a hand out to stop Sam.

"I got this one," he told him.

Sam scoffed. "Two words: Jail bait."

"I would never." Dean protested weakly.

Sam glared at him, before walking away.

"She's a witch!" Dean called after him, before nodding to himself in self-admittance.

Sam went over to check the room for hex bags as Dean approached the teen.

"You know, it's just weird… the water wasn't hot—I'd just been in there myself," the girl was saying to an officer.

"Your friend didn't happen to know a man named Luke Wallace?" Dean cut in, flashing his fake FBI badge.

"Agent Seger—FBI," he nodded to the officer.

"Um... who's Luke Wallace?" the blonde asked Dean.

"He died yesterday." Dean told her.

She shrugged. "I don't know who that is."

Sam held up a hex bag he'd found, and Dean looked down attentively.

Sam sat on the bed, books and notes sprawled out next to him, finger tracing a passage he was reading in an old, weathered volume. Dean sat across the room at the table next to the window, laptop open in front of him, beers and empty coffee cups to the side. Rachel napped on the other bed while Lee looked through another lore book.

"I'm telling you, both of these Vics are squeaky clean. There was no reason for wicked-bitch payback." Dean announced.

"Maybe 'cause it's not about that," Sam offered.

Dean and Lee paused, waiting for him to add more, but he didn't.

"Wow, insightful," Dean sarcastically remarked, and Lee snorted in agreement.

"Maybe this witch isn't working a grudge. Maybe they're working a spell," Sam continued.

"Ah, Hell, that sounds about right," Lee closed her book with a thud and leaned over Sam's shoulder to read with him.

"Check this out: three blood sacrifices over three days—the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest." Sam chuckled, rising and showing Dean.

"Celtic calendar—the final day of the final harvest is October 31st." Sam said as Dean took the book.

"Halloween?" he asked.

"Exactly." Sam confirmed.

"Well, what are the three blood sacrifices for?" Dean asked.

"Uh, if I'm right, this witch—"

"Witches," Lee piped.

Sam nodded, "Right, theses witches are summoning a demon. And not just any demon—"

"Holy Buffy the Vampire Slayer," Lee interrupted. "Freaking Samhain," she said, jumping up.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Samhain! He's a demon. Look, it's a Celtic belief that Halloween is the day that the veil between the living and the dead is the thinnest." Lee explained.

Sam nodded. "They're trying to summon Samhain," Sam confirmed.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Dean asked.

"Dean, Samhain is the damn origin of Halloween," Sam remarked.

"'Tis true," Rachel announced, walking over to where the three were speaking.

"How long have you been awake?" Lee asked.

"Long enough to avoid having to do research," Rachel smirked.

"Anyways, Sam's right, as is Lee. Celts thought October 31st was the one night that the veil was thinnest between alive and dead. The whole costume idea came from everyone putting on masks to hide from Samhain, and people left sweets on their doorsteps to make him happy—thus the whole candy and trick or treating tradition. Oh, and not to mention the whole reason pumpkin carving is a thing was because people carved his face into pumpkins to worship him. Samhain is one big, bad mofo," Rachel explained, sitting in the chair next to Dean.

"Yeah. He was exorcised centuries ago," Sam added.

"So even though Samhain took a trip downstairs, the tradition stuck," Dean inquired.

"Exactly. Only now, instead of Demons and blood orgies, Halloween is about kids, costumes and candy." Sam said.

"Okay so some witch wants to raise Samhain and take back the night?" Dean summarized.

"Pretty much," Lee said at the same time Sam scorned, "Dean this is serious."

"I am serious." Dean proclaimed.

"We're talking heavyweight witchcraft. This ritual can only be performed every 600 years." Sam added.

"And the 600 year marker rolls around…?"

"Tomorrow night," Sam answered.

"Naturally," Dean cynically responded, looking absolutely done.

"Well it sure is a lot of death and destruction for one demon," Dean said.

"That's 'cause he likes company. Once Samhain's raised, he can do some raising of his own." Sam explained.

"Well that's just… terrifying," Lee announced, running a hand over her face.

"Raising what, exactly?" Dean pressed.

"Dark, evil crap. And lots of it. They follow him around like the friggin' pied piper." Sam described.

"So basically we've got a freaking draugr death lord on our hands, and no way to stop him?" Lee worriedly bit her lip.

"What the hell is a 'draugr death lord'?" Dean asked her.

"It's a… never mind. Luckily they don't actually exist here, unlike literally everything else horrifying and deadly," Lee complained.

"So, when we say dark evil crap, we're talking ghosts?" Dean asked Sam.

"Yeah."

"Zombies?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Leprechauns?"

"Dean."

"Those little dudes are scary. Small hands." Dean joked.

Rachel coughed as her coffee went down the wrong pipe.

"Look, it just starts with ghosts and ghouls." Sam said.

"We're talking every single thing y'all have ever fought or seen, all in one place by the end of the night," Rachel warned.

"It's gonna be a slaughterhouse," Dean realized.

"So we can't let him walk free," Lee declared, grabbing a beer and tossing it back.

Everyone silently nodded.

A/N: To Be Continued. Sorry for the short chapter, the rest will be posted tomorrow. Thanks for the continued support, remember to like/ follow if you're enjoying.