Halloween Crush(ed)

This little fic is loosely based on Sam's 'Why I Hate Halloween' story he relates in 14x04 Mint Condition – but with a twist. Set pre-series in 1994. Two chapters with the second one being ready to post in time for Halloween. My buddy shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod has my endless gratitude for her fabulous beta'ing.

Supernatural still doesn't belong to me.

Enjoy!

It was Friday afternoon late in October. Dean was waiting by the Bismarck Middle School entrance as per usual. A slight chill made him turn up the collar of his jacket, brittle leaves swirling in the air around him. He'd spent the past ten minutes leaning against the brick wall building, humming Metallica to pass the time. Better be ten minutes early than a hair late, Dad had drummed into him from an early age, and even though Dean liked to think of himself as a great deal less paranoid than his father, he adhered to that rule, no exceptions, because he knew lives might depend on it. You never knew.

Apropos being late...

"C'mon, man," he grumbled to himself and checked his wristwatch. "Get your ass out here."

He wasn't here to twiddle his thumbs but to pick up a certain someone – someone who didn't necessarily need to know that Dean frequently skipped his last class so he could be here on time. School was overrated anyway, plus they would be leaving in a few weeks, tops. It wasn't like Dean didn't care about his education, but at 15 he preferred to learn the things he needed in his own way. Well, that, and his priorities lay elsewhere.

Speak of the devil.

The double doors on the front of the building swung open just when Dean pushed himself off the wall to saunter over to the entrance. Masses of kids were pouring out of the brick building, milling about, and chattering happily. Dean stood to the side. Among the kids, he spotted a familiar shaggy-headed boy, skinny and small for his age, almost disappearing into his way too big coat, one of Dean's hand-me-downs. Dean tugged at his own jacket sleeve, wondering when it had become so short, then turned his attention to his brother again. And surprisingly, instead of the pensive brood his little brother had already perfected at his young age, Sam was grinning like a Cheshire cat today. Dean could tell from a mile away that Sam was excited about something. What could it be this time? A particularly interesting advanced class detailing some long dead dude's poetry, a math puzzle for high schoolers the sixth grader had solved in record-time, or something equally thrilling for a freakishly geeky kid like Sam? Dean shook his head, inwardly chuckling.

It didn't take long for Sam to catch sight of his older brother.

"What's up, squirt?" Dean asked and ruffled his kid brother's hair once the ball of energy that was Sam had bumped into him.

The younger boy, barely reaching Dean's collarbone, didn't even duck or complain about Dean treating him like a little kid. Instead, he beamed up at his big brother, shifting from one foot to another. "Dean, Dean! Something happened! It's so cool! There's this girl in my class, Andrea, she's really nice, and she's having this Halloween thing, and, and—"

"Breathe, Sammy."

"But it's so exciting!"

"Okay, calm down, buddy. So, there's a girl, huh?" Dean huffed, grasping the important parts as usual.

"Yes – uh, no, I mean, there's a party," Sam stuttered, blushing. "And, and she said I could come too. I was invited to a party, Dean."

Dean patted his brother's head once more, smiling fondly. The earlier impatience with his idiot of a brother had dissipated entirely. Who was he to resist that dimpled smile? "Sammy and the ladies… I knew it."

The signature eyeroll was expected. So was the fake annoyed, "You're a jerk."

Dean laughed. "Alright, when is this gig?"

A creature of habit and John Winchester's son, Sam delivered a full sitrep. At the speed of a semiautomatic gun, and without taking a single breath once, Sam explained that the party started at six tonight, that Andrea lived across town in a nice neighborhood, that there would be pizza and games, and yes, her parents would be at home, and no, Sam wouldn't get himself into trouble, and please, pleeeeease could he go? Sam didn't beg for stuff often – he'd learned early on that it wouldn't get him anywhere – so this must be really important to him.

"Whoa, okay there, Thumper," Dean cut his brother's rambling short. "I didn't take you for a party animal."

"I've never been to a party, Dean."

Touché.

With their transient lifestyle, neither Sam nor Dean had ever stayed in a place long enough to get rid of the unwelcome but inevitable new kid title. Sammy, in particular, considered himself a freak for it, even more so ever since he found out the truth about why they were moving around so much. At least teachers usually took a shine to his geek brother quickly (simultaneously viewing Dean with mistrust), but their peers often weren't that easy to win over. Making real friends was hard, and even though Dean didn't mind that much (family was all that mattered, anyway – eventually, there would always come the day when they had to sever all other ties), he knew Sam did. Protecting Sam had been drilled into Dean from the age of four, and in his book, that extended to doing everything in his power to make his brother happy. That meant being more than just a brother sometimes, but still, he couldn't always be a substitute for friendships. The kid craved normal so bad. A group of kids he could hang out with, classmates to geek over his homework with, a team to play soccer with. And Dean couldn't blame him.

While Dean himself filled most of his spare time with hunting with Dad, Sammy was often left behind, forced to spend his days alone, sometimes nights too. Hell, last year's Halloween and the one before that had been those kinds of nights. Last year, Dean had been tagging along with Dad on a vengeful spirit hunt, or maybe a werewolf, he couldn't remember because he'd been just backup, stuck in the car. He only remembered that nasty feeling in his stomach, the guilt gnawing at him for leaving his kid brother at whatever moldy place they had rented at the time. Imprisoned, almost. Sam was too small, too vulnerable to hunt yet. The kid was a genius, smarter than any child Dean knew, and he was already an extraordinary researcher, a quality that would make him a formidable hunter one day. But at 11, Sam was simply not ready. So, he had to stay behind. A lot.

So yeah, without friends, life could get lonely.

Getting a party invitation? Dean knew how special that was. How much it meant to Sam. And even though instinct and years of experience whispered doubts into his ear about how safe his kid brother would be at a stranger's house, Dean quickly stifled those voices. It was just a party, right? He wouldn't make the same mistake as last year, locking up his kid brother from the world out there.

"First time for everything," Dean said after a short pause, winking. He did not care to mention that he himself hadn't been to many parties either, much less spent a lot of time with girls, contrary to the stories he dished up whenever Sammy needed to be reminded of how awesome a big brother he had. As if Sam ever needed a reminder.

Sam's already huge eyes widened even more. "Does that mean I can go? Please, Dean, please, I really wanna go."

How could Dean say no to those eyes? He never could when baby Sammy wanted to be held, or when toddler Sam wanted to get a piggyback ride, or when kid Sam asked for… pretty much anything. Damn puppy-dog-eyes. But there was someone else who could very well balk their plans. Their father, no surprise there, was gone over the weekend to hunt a creature two states over with Uncle Bobby, and he wasn't planning to return until Sunday night at the earliest. Leaving his underage sons for days at a time was a common occurrence because he knew Dean would be taking good care of the youngest family member. But would Dad be okay with his boys separating, even if it was just for a few hours?

"Sure, well, if you ask me. But you know I'm not the one to decide," Dean said. "I can't promise, but I'm gonna ask Dad when we get home. Okay, Sammy?"

Apparently, that was all the confirmation Sam needed. Because whatever Dad said, Dean had basically just given Sam permission to go to the party, and that's all the opinion that mattered to his little brother anyway. Sam putting all his trust in his big brother was the best damn feeling ever. Reasoning with Dad might be an almost impossible feat, but Dean was confident that he could do it.

The kid's grin grew even wider, and without a heads-up, he flung himself at Dean, wrapping his bony arms around his big brother's middle, squealing, "Thanks, Dean!"

Sometimes the kid acted like he was too old for hugs, like he was tough and strong and serious like his brother and father. And sometimes Sam was just a kid. Dean vastly preferred the latter. And maybe he wasn't as tough as he pretended to be either – because he didn't mind one bit hugging Sam back.

Dean himself hadn't gotten a party invitation tonight, and he didn't exactly have plans for the weekend – no hunt Dad wanted him to join this time. Bismarck was bigger than most places they usually stayed and offered a bunch of fun stuff like arcades, shopping malls, and even a go-kart track near their house. Apparently, some of the boys from his class who weren't total douches (but not friends either) were planning to go pull TP pranks on their neighbors tonight, which, admittedly, sounded awesome. In theory, Dean could go join them, or he could easily find something fun to do by himself tonight. But exploring all those things later, with his brother, would be even better. Despite sometimes faking annoyance whenever Sammy tagged along, he'd take his little brother's companionship over that of kids his age who knew nothing about his life any day.

Chick-flicks be damned, his little brother's smile was enough to brighten Dean's day. The prospect of wrapping unsuspecting civilians' houses in toilet paper paled in comparison to seeing Sammy so happy. Yeah, sometimes little brothers were a pain in the ass, but Dean would give his right arm to see Sam smile. That happened way too rarely already. Today was a win – as long as Dad gave his blessing for the party Sam was so excited about, that is.

Dean quickly checked their surroundings only to realize that he and his brother were the only ones left on the school premises. He looked back down and briefly squeezed his brother's small frame again before breaking apart. When he gently lifted Sam's chin up with one hand, the kid looked so damn happy, which in turn almost made Dean's heart overflow with affection for that little idiot. Smiling, he said, "Looks like we'll need to get you a costume."

They spent their walk home discussing cool disguises, at least that was Dean's plan. Initially, Sam seemed reluctant. His way-too-serious-for-a-kid-his-age face let on about his true views on costumes, something along the lines of aren't they kind of stupid? Ever since he'd learned that monsters were real and experienced firsthand what they actually looked like, it didn't seem that appealing anymore to dress up as a ghost, a Wendigo, or a werewolf. Sometimes, Dean found himself mourning his little brother's loss of innocence at such a young age. And sometimes, on particularly dark days, he even allowed himself to grieve his own childish naivety. But that ship had long sailed. And today wasn't one of those days, anyway. Today, Dean was having none of it.

"Dude, don't be stupid, you need a costume," he insisted, lightly punching his brother in the shoulder while they took a left turn into the street they currently called home.

"Why?"

"All the other kids will be wearing one too. You don't want to be the only one who doesn't, right?"

The reasons behind his brother not wanting to dress up like a monster were obvious and relatable. But they had other options. A non-scary costume would be Sam's best bet to fit right in – that's what the kid wanted, Dean could tell. It was no surprise that this, of all arguments, was what convinced Sam of the necessity of a badass costume. When Sam finally agreed, his face alight with a smile, Dean prepared to present his fabulous costume ideas.

"Wait!" Sam squeaked and abruptly stopped just when they reached the door to their sleazy rented one-room-apartment.

"What is it?"

The radiant smile vanished from Sam's young face, and his eyes searched the ground. "I, uh… we don't have any money for a costume."

Dean lightly clapped his brother's arm in a look-at-me gesture. Wheels were turning in his head to come up with a plan. Because, frankly, the kid had a point. It wasn't like the Winchester family was rolling in money. Maybe he'd need to pull the old five finger discount at the store down the street, but that was one more of those many things Sam didn't need to know about."Dude, I'll figure something out."

"But Dad only left enough money for food and—and I don't want you gambling. Or stealing, that'd be even worse. You could get caught, and—"

Dammit, the kid knew him too well. "Sammy, don't worry," Dean assured and – for the sake of the fine upstanding citizen that was his brother – mentally scratched two highly lucrative options from his list of ways to line their pockets. He was Dean freaking Winchester, he'd find another way to get his little brother the best damn costume in the world. "I've got it covered."

"Are you sure?" A hint of hope returned to Sam's eyes, meeting Dean's gaze.

"Have I ever let you down?"

Sam broke into a grin. "Never."

Damn right.

But how to get his hands on a cool costume was something future-Dean could think about. First things first. Present-Dean had to deal with one last obstacle that was standing between Sammy and his first ever party. After they'd made themselves comfortable in the gloomy apartment that contained not much more than two narrow beds and a small kitchenette (and, of course, a medium-sized arsenal of weapons), Dean pressed his luck. He called Dad.

The conversation lasted a grand total of fifty seconds and involved many, many yessirs and nosirs, ending on the usual, "You take care of your brother, Dean," – as if he ever needed to be told.

Finally, after hanging up, Dean grinned at Sam.

"Jackpot!"

If anyone was capable of extracting a thumbs up from John Winchester, it was Dean. Coolest brother in the world, hello?!

Still, Dean had not expected this to go over so well, with Dad usually being adamant about A: his sons always staying together, and B: not getting too attached to the places they lived in. Besides, November 2nd was rapidly approaching, which meant that Dad's natural party-pooper-attitude tended to take a turn for the worst. Dean understood, of course. This time of year was never easy, for any of them. Usually, he hid his own emotional mess from Sam whenever he could, but even Dean sometimes lost it around this particular day. He missed Mom, he missed her so damn badly. He missed what life was like before. And Dad, even after all these years still drunk with grief, did too. Maybe that was the reason why Dad had chosen to let his youngest son have some semblance of normalcy this weekend, like any regular kid. Either way, Dean didn't want to think too closely about Dad's reasoning. He wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he wasn't going to think further about anything regarding Mom either. No, he really wasn't.

Where was he again? Ah. Permission? Check. Now there was only the challenge left of putting together a costume. Dean already had something in mind. He had a good feeling about this.

When he delivered the news, Sam was all smiles.

The overly enthusiastic, "Thank you, Dean!" was accompanied by another bone-crushing hug, thin arms wrapping themselves around Dean's torso like a boa constrictor. 15 years old and way too cool for hugs or not, Dean could never say no to his clingy little brother and squeezed right back. How could he ever not love that kid?

00000

Later that night, Sam was speechless with amazement.

Not only had he been allowed to go to his very first Halloween party, alone, even – well, after Dean had walked him there and screwed another promise out of him to be safe (was it the third time or already the fourth?). Dean had also kept his promise (like he'd ever break one he'd given Sam, ha) of finding a sweet costume for him. Dean had been kind of cagey about the logistics, but he'd asserted that none of the items he'd presented were stolen, so Sam hadn't probed that much. Putting together where the components of his costume came from wasn't that hard anyway – to Sam, Dean was more predictable than he realized. Either way, the fact was: Dean truly was the best brother in the world.

The oversized cowboy hat (probably "borrowed" from Caleb), the fringed vest (from Goodwill if the smell was any indication), the red bandana around his neck (maybe from Dean's considerable collection) and the old-fashioned lasso knotted around his waist (likely from their personal arsenal – "we don't want to spook the neighbors with a gun, huh, Sammy?") made for a decent cowboy costume. This was even cooler than the makeshift firefighter outfit Dean had created for Sam's third grade Halloween party – hosted by the teacher during English class, so that didn't actually count as a real party. But this? This was a real party.

Sam had arrived at Andrea's house right on time (after promising Dean for the umpteenth time that he wouldn't be getting himself in trouble, and that yes, Andrea was very cute), and at the time there were only a few other kids dressed up, giggling, and raiding the candy bar. Andrea had waved him hello but had quickly gone off to chat with other kids. Warmth flooded Sam's chest just from seeing her laugh. He composed himself and took a moment to explore the place. The whole house was decked in pumpkins of all sizes and shapes, plastic bats hanging from the ceilings, fake spider webs in the corners, and all the rooms were bathed in multicolored eerie lights. Sam was standing in the middle of the living room, which had a mesmerizing purple theme, when more and more kids filtered into the house.

He spotted a Jedi (awesome!), a jellyfish, a knight, a witch, a football player, two different kinds of ghosts, someone dressed as a pack of chewing-gum (weird, but cool), and many, many more impressive disguises. Among them was a clown too, but Sam didn't feel the need to get closer to that particular kid. The hostess herself, Andrea, was dressed in a butterfly costume with iridescent wings strapped to her back and pink antennas tucked into her brown curls. In comparison, he suddenly couldn't help but think of his own cowboy outfit as kind of lame. Dean had made it, so it was awesome, naturally, but it was still a makeshift costume. All the other ones looked store-bought, expensive, and perfect. Sam shifted from foot to foot and bit his lip. What if the other kids noticed that he was wearing a last-minute DIY-costume? What if Andrea thought he was boring?

And suddenly, Sam wished Dean was here. Sam was at a party where he didn't quite seem to belong, and Dean was all alone, waiting till he had to pick up his kid brother. This was all wrong! This wasn't fair. Sometimes, it felt like Sam was dragging Dean down, like Dean never got to do anything fun himself because he was forced to take care of his little brother. Guilt gnawed at Sam, settling in his stomach.

Maybe he should have just stayed at home. Dean could've hung out with his buddies without worrying about his little brother. Or maybe they could've stayed together, watched a movie or something equally safe and ordinary, like Dad preferred them to anyway. With his brother by his side, Sam was always at ease, comfortable. Surrounded by a bunch of kids he barely even knew, he wasn't. This was uncharted, overwhelming territory. There were so many new faces. Apparently, Andrea had invited the entire class – which kind of tempered Sam's enthusiasm about having been invited too. Maybe she didn't like like him after all.

Still. He still liked her, so he wanted to make a good impression on Andrea. Even if Sam still blamed himself for almost certainly having ruined Dean's night, he was not going to waste his chance with Andrea. It was questionable if he'd ever get one again. He tried to remind himself that this was a new and awesome opportunity, one he'd never had before. His first ever party. A chance to make real friends. A chance to not be the odd one out, for once. Consciously remembering his excitement from earlier, Sam took a deep breath. He was here now, so he may as well try to enjoy the party.

As Dean would advise, Sam sucked up his discomfort like a true Winchester and tried to mingle with the other kids.

Some time later, the pizza and pumpkin pie buffet was decimated severely, even though Andrea's mom and dad wove through the munching children for refills a few times. Now that everyone was full, a few party games were in progress. A group of children was playing the telephone game while some other kids busied themselves with musical chairs. Despite being unfamiliar with the songs played (they were not 70s rock, that much he made out), Sam reluctantly participated in the latter and felt his ears go hot when he was declared winner. Huh, Dad's tough training schedule must've enhanced Sam's speed and reflexes. If not for hunting (which Sam would probably never succeed at), it was good for something, at least.

"Wow, you did so good! Are you having fun?" someone asked him from his left after a few of the boys had high-fived Sam.

He whirled around only to face Andrea. She was looking up at him from just a few inches away. It was very well possible that she was the only girl in class shorter than Sam. Unlike most of his classmates, she didn't make him feel like a dwarf. Of course, she was also extremely smart and pretty and funny and overall kind of awesome. Which was the reason why, until now, Sam hadn't dared to really talk to her, too nervous and afraid he wouldn't get a word out. What would he even say?

"Uh, yeah," he blurted out, his mouth faster than his brain. Heat crawled up his cheeks. "Thanks for inviting me. This is—this is great!"

Okay, not a fantastic opener, but not a terrible one either.

Andrea smiled that sweet smile of hers, the glitter on her cheeks rising almost to her huge, round eyes. A waft of cotton candy scent tickled Sam's tongue. His knees weakened and his heart fluttered. They had never really spoken outside of school. Sure, they had worked on a project together, and she had smiled at him in math class, but this was the first time they were really talking.

"It's so nice that you came," she said, fidgeting with one of her plastic antennas.

"Yeah, so… um…" Sam smiled back, trying to think of something cool to say but came up empty. Dean would always know a witty thing to say, he was pretty good at that. Dean was great at everything. Too bad he wasn't here. Or maybe that was a good thing; that way he couldn't see his little brother making a fool of himself. Dean would probably mock him forever if he witnessed Sam – usually talkative and eloquent for his young age – stumbling over his own words like this. Before Sam could make up his mind, another guest called Andrea's name, and she wordlessly waved him goodbye to join her friend.

Sam deflated where he stood. Hunter in training or not, he'd give anything for a shred more self-confidence. For the bravado and swagger Dean seemed to master so effortlessly. Sam could handle all kinds of weapons just fine (which he was not allowed to talk about to anyone lest they set child protective services on Dad), he was versed in hand-to-hand combat, could run five miles without a break, and he could recite a multitude of spells in Latin – and yet, he couldn't talk to a girl.

Hating himself a little for being such a letdown, Sam shuffled to a corner of the room and plunked himself down on a chair. He sipped on a cup of soda, carefully studying the other kids for a while. It was then that he first noticed a boy he'd never seen before. A skinny kid, strawberry blond and freckled, wearing a pirate costume, sat kitty-corner to him on the other side of the room. The boy was staring at him. Precisely, one eye was staring, the other one hidden under a black eyepatch, a matching plastic saber hanging loosely from his hip.

For some reason he couldn't put his finger on, Sam suddenly felt… off.

A vague throbbing behind his eyelids made him uneasy. Not now. He'd had headaches before, quite regularly actually, from a young age. But this was really bad timing. He just wanted to enjoy the party. Still, something about the way the kid peered at him from the other side of the room triggered something within his head. There was nothing special about the unfamiliar boy, but he kept his eye glued to Sam, unmoving, and it felt like his steady gaze was piercing his very soul. Sam found himself unable to look away, even unable to move, and the hairs on the back of his neck fractionally raised. What the—

He would have missed it if he'd blinked. He didn't, and that's how he saw the kid's green iris flash a different color for a mere millisecond.

Black.

The sudden spike of pain in his head took him off guard, the otherness of the kid suddenly palpable in the air.

"Ow," Sam gasped, clutching his head with both hands.

Something hammered against his skull from the inside, every heartbeat an agonizing flash of lightning to his raw nerves. The purple-colored lights of the room suddenly seemed blinding. As fast as his jumbled mind allowed, he squeezed his eyes shut, massaging the bridge of his nose, and concentrated on breathing through the welling panic. Even behind closed eyelids, bright sparks drizzled across his vision, warped shapes scurrying in the darkness.

What the hell was happening?!

Sam's longing for Dean ramped up. Calling out for help was no option though, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, just as paralyzed as the rest of him. He was trapped. Don't panic, don't panic, don't— He desperately tried to count in his mind, just like Dean had taught him. One… two… three… Miraculously, just the thought of Dean calming him down lifted something off of him. His body grew a little lighter. And slowly, very slowly, the horrible sensation of his brain popping right out of his skull abated. The pounding pain ebbed off to a more manageable degree. It wasn't entirely gone even after a few minutes, and Sam's stomach was still in knots, but breathing was getting easier. Ever so carefully, he pried his eyelids open, only to discover that the mysterious boy was gone.

Black, Sam remembered with a shudder, his head still aching and his mind spinning. The eye color struck him as unnatural, unreal – so much so he immediately discarded the harmless possibility of colored contact lenses – but what else would cause someone's eyes to turn black? Unless it wasn't a person… Sam tried to find the answer somewhere in the back of his brain, but the information wasn't there. Fact was, he had never encountered anything like this before. Whatever this was, its mere presence gave him eerie vibes. What kind of a walking disaster area do you need to be for something sinister to follow you to a Halloween party?!

Or maybe he was just being paranoid, starting to see evil everywhere he went. Just like Dad.

He didn't want to be like that, not in that regard. He wanted nothing more than to be normal.

Sam took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He must have imagined the odd kid and the color of his one visible eye, right? Nonetheless, not for the first time tonight, he wished for his big brother to be here.

Apparently, none of the others had noticed Sam's distress. They were busy playing games, jumping around, and generally having fun. For a little while longer, he just sat there in his corner, anxiously observing the crowd. The pirate boy was nowhere to be seen, but his heart wouldn't stop throbbing just like his head wouldn't stop pulsing.

"Sam?" a tiny voice startled him.

In his shocked state, he hadn't even noticed that someone had approached him. Carefully, Sam turned his attention to the speaker.

"A-Andrea?" he spluttered, surprised at the roughness of his own voice.

She stood next to him, her eyebrows knitted and her mouth forming a little 'o'. "Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost."

So someone had noticed. Great. Sam hesitated for a moment, then nodded and stood. His legs were wobbly for different reasons, now. "Uh, yeah, I… um, can you tell me who's that kid in the pirate costume?"

Andrea tilted her head in confusion, her gaze sweeping the other kids before landing on Sam again. "Who?"

"A boy, skinny, redhead… he's wearing an eyepatch."

Andrea absentmindedly rubbed her thumb across her jaw, smearing glitter across her skin. "I haven't seen any boys in pirate costumes. If I do, I'll tell you, okay?"

Sam nodded, swallowing a pumpkin-sized lump in his throat. What the hell? This kid, was he even real? Had anyone but Sam seen him? Maybe he should call Dean. Or maybe the explanation for all this was simple. Maybe one of the recurring themes of his nightmares (thanks, monster hunting) had finally made it to his waking experience. Yeah, that must be it, this was all in his head, Sam tried to rationalize. Halloween was all about monsters, and monsters reminded him of hunting, and hunting reminded him of the reason his family was doing all this… evil lurking in the night.

"—am?"

He realized that Andrea had been talking to him.

"Huh?" he said, again regretting that he wasn't more articulate around her. The uneasy feeling in his stomach and his headache were still nagging at him, however, and whatever was going on superseded his need to impress his crush. But maybe that was just it, maybe he was so nervous he was imagining things.

"I was asking if you'd like to join us playing bobbing for apples." Andrea arched an eyebrow, clearly waiting (hoping?) for a positive response.

Sam should probably call Dean. He really should. But. Dammit, he wasn't a baby. He needed to get out of his funk. He'd promised Dean to be okay, after all. Nodding, he rasped, "Yeah, sounds good."

Andrea's features brightened visibly. Then – was this actually happening? – she grabbed his hand and pulled him to another room, bathed in neon-green light, where a bunch of kids were cheering on a girl who was about to snatch an apple from a large basin. For a minute, Sam forgot his headache when Andrea's warm hand curled around his fingers. He already missed her touch the moment it was gone. Maybe she did like him! But this was a party – you couldn't just stand around holding hands when everyone was watching, so he let her go as soon as they reached the other kids. She gave him a quick smile, then positioned herself right next to the basin. The girl currently playing, dressed as a black cat, had successfully fished an apple out of the water, now giggling with the others.

"You wanna go next, Sam?" Andrea piped up.

For a moment, Sam gaped like a fish. "Uh…"

"Come on, it's fun!"

Wow, she really was cute. Sam caved. "Yeah, okay."

He wasn't quite sure if apple bobbing was the right thing to do with his stomach still roiling and his head pounding and whatever was going on at this party, but he didn't have much of a choice, right? And maybe stupid games would distract him from the tingling sensation on the back of his head, a surefire sign that something was very wrong, which he desperately tried to ignore. He was okay. Everything was fine.

So, Sam shot Andrea a wobbly smile and looked around one last time, relieved that the pirate kid was nowhere in sight. He tipped back his cowboy hat and bent over the water, the other kids hollering and rooting for him. His hands braced on the edge of the basin, he counted ten bright green apples. He'd never actually done this before, but it couldn't be too hard, could it? For a second there, Sam was so focused on the task at hand that he didn't immediately notice what was odd about the water. But just when his lips touched the wet surface, his nose caught a whiff of an odd smell. Since when did apples reek of rotten eggs? Before his already scrambled brain could supply an answer to that question, it was split in half by an ax. At least it felt that way.

Sam gasped and recoiled from the water, but his hands stayed gripped tightly on the basin. The nausea-inducing smell in his nose, his head pulsing so bad he was tempted to squeeze his eyelids shut but didn't quite manage it, Sam then saw it.

His own reflection was looking back at him from the surface of the water, glaring, a bizarre grin warping his features.

Sam blinked twice, his mouth hanging wide open, but his reflection didn't match those actions at all. Instead, mirror-Sam's grin stretched into a snarl.

"What the…" Sam muttered, thoroughly confused and on the verge of freaking out.

He couldn't even hear the other kids talking to him, couldn't see anything beyond his own terrifying reflection. The headache was intensifying again, hammering against his skull as if his brain was desperately looking for a way out. Sam's breath was stuttering, his body frozen in place. He couldn't stop staring at not-himself, the hot-and-cold feeling of horror prickling under his skin. Was this real? Was any of this real?

Sam furiously blinked, then found himself looking at his own face again, only it wasn't. The overgrown bangs were there, the dimples, even the stupid cowboy hat slung around his neck. The kid reflected in the water was Sam, but the image of himself smirked at him, a sinister twist in the dark eyes. As if Sam himself was suddenly plunged into the water, all remaining sounds in the room were abruptly muted, a massive pressure on Sam's eardrums drowning out everything else. It was completely and utterly silent. Until a single word boomed inside Sam's skull.

"Mine."

His own voice but not, shrill and low-pitched at once.

The reflection's lips had not moved, and Sam couldn't be entirely sure the word hadn't come out of his own mouth, but none of it mattered. The second he heard it, Sam gasped, all five or however many senses he had rushing back at full tilt. A scream was ripped from his lungs, harsh and broken. Suddenly, the room was ear-piercingly loud, the air filled with brimstone, and a wave of fear gripped Sam so tightly that he thought, for a second, his head would explode. With a grunt and a jerky movement, he stumbled back from the basin, clutching his head. Too bad he apparently had no control over his fine motor skills anymore, his stiff fingers accidentally whipping the container full of water right off the table it was sitting on.

Water sloshed everywhere. Bilious green apples lurched to the floor.

The shocked shrieks of the other kids were what registered first, then the splashes of cold water on the front of his vest, but when Sam looked around, he could see that Andrea had, unfortunately, taken the brunt of the water attack. Like a drowned rat with glitter smeared all over her face, she stood and gaped at Sam.

Now that he couldn't see his own terrifying reflection anymore, the pain in his head subsided marginally, and Sam started to come to his senses. His heart still tripped in his chest and the rushing in his ears was so goddamn loud, but… but everything in the room looked normal, no weird smells, no creepy eyes boring into his soul, no ominous pins-and-needles sensation. He released his head from his own death grip, stared down at his trembling hands.

What the hell had just happened?!

"S-sorry, I'm… so, so sorry," he stuttered, looking from Andrea to the other kids who eyed him like he was a circus animal.

Andrea looked close to tears, but she said nothing at all. Meanwhile, a few girls around them started murmuring, and two of the boys had already alerted half of the other guests to the spectacle taking place in the next room. It was the telephone game all over again. More like wildfire spreading, really.

I can explain, Sam thought, but his mouth was dry. And no, he really couldn't explain. He didn't understand what was going on himself. No, no, no. He was losing his mind, that's what was going on. Years of hunting must have messed with his head. Somewhere in his bewildered mind, he found it in himself to mourn the fact that he'd just irrevocably screwed his chances with Andrea. Hell, he'd screwed his chances at ever finding friends at this school. They all thought he was a freak.

He was a freak.

Sam bit his lip, his jaw trembling. His head was still killing him, and if he didn't run now, he'd probably throw up on top of having sprayed water everywhere. He needed to get out of here. Now.

So that's what Sam did. The running part, not the throwing up. He ignored the yells and laughter and weird looks and just took off, taking the nearest exit. Before anyone could stop him, he crossed the backyard adjacent to Andrea's house and stumbled onto a small field behind. His legs were burning in the cold night air, his lungs were screeching, and his heart was throbbing in sync with his pounding head, but he didn't stop running.

Sam ran and ran and ran until he was sure no one was following him.

To be continued...