I own nothing. Least of all this.

Sam and Dean Winchester, Ellen and Jo Harvelle, Bobby Singer, and Castiel all walk into a house…and Harry Potter, Han Solo, Sarah Conner, Amy Pond, Doctor Stephen Strange, and John Constantine all walk out.

This fic is set between the two Supernatural Season 5 Episodes "The Curios Case of Dean Winchester" and "Changing Channels". Basically, this is a world where Gabriel not only decides he's tired of waiting for the boys to come to him, but that Halloween is just too perfect of an opportunity to pass up for pulling high-powered shenanigans. Chaos, naturally, ensues.

Inspired by that one episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (you know the one) and the "Halloween Echoes" segments from Rorschach's Blot's collection "Odd Ideas".

"Hear the dogs howlin' out of key

To a hymn called faith and misery;

And bleed, the company that lost the war today.

I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies;

This is the dawning of the rest of our lives,

On holiday!"

- Green Day

1) THIS IS HALLOWEEN

Thirteen o'clock.

What a stupid thing to be afraid of.

Everyone likes to go round saying, 'Oh no, the clock's gone an hour over what it's supposed to, it must be the end times!'

Idjits.

Anyone with half a brain can tell you that thirteen o'clock means jack in military time. With a side of squat for good measure. A full hour past when everything usually goes off the rails; more than enough time for everyone to collapse from dealing with whatever they've been dealing with.

It's eleven o'clock you have to watch out for. Just one hour 'til both midnight and high noon, the two most dangerous times of the day. When the moon is new, eleven's the time it reaches its peak. And when its full, that's when it's just fixing to set completely. The witching hour, they used to call it. And witches for sure were fond of it.

And after all, ain't the eleventh hour when things really look the darkest?

"C'mon, Sam, name one thing that's gone wrong for us on Halloween!"

"Dude, don't you remember last year?"

"…No."

Sam sighed.

"I'm kidding! Of course I remember! But hey; everything worked out in the end, didn't it?"

"Yeah, so far."

"C'mon man, why you gotta be like that?"

"Like…what?"

"A downer. It's Halloween! Bob for apples, tell ghost stories…"

"Wear cheap costumes?"

"Exactly! Listen…"

Dean clapped his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I know…the last good Halloween you had was with Jessica. And…we ain't had much reason to celebrate since I got back from downstairs. So, I was just thinkin', in case this all, you know…goes to Hell…why don't we make one last set of good memories?"

Sam sighed again. "Dean, couldn't it wait 'til Christmas?"

Dean just gave him a look.

"…Fine. But only if you promise not to make those eyes again."

"What eyes?"

"Exactly. So…what's the theme for the costumes?"

"Aside from fictional characters? Nothing. Whoever or whatever you like. From aliens to supervillains, monsters to wizards. Your call."

"Got it."

Dean stuck up a finger. "But you can't tell me what it is 'til you put it on."

"Fine. Just…don't expect too much."

"Never do."

"Who all's coming?"

"Ellan, Jo, Cas, and since it is at his place, Bobby.'

"How on Earth did you get Bobby to wear a costume?"

"Trust me, you don't wanna know. Sides, where else did you think I got all those comic books when we were kids? Dudes a huge nerd underneath all the scruff."

"Like somebody else I could name."

"Whatever. Just don't make us late."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Seriously, Dean?"

"What? Its Han friggin' Solo! Can't get much cooler than that! Whereas you…painted foot-long dowel rod, fake scar on your forehead, and plastic glass rims…must be Harry Potter."

"See, you call Bobby and me nerds, and then you turn around and not only call me out on going as a fictional wizard, but make a reference to said wizard's books in the exact same sentence. Kinda raises some interesting questions, don't you think?"

Dean opened and shut his mouth at least three times before he managed to sputter a comeback. "…Shut up."

Well, half a comeback.

"Just knock on the door already."

Sam chuckled, and rapped on the door three times. He was just about to do it a fourth when it was practically ripped open by…

"Sam!"

"Hi, Jo."

"Dean managed to drag your sorry self out, did he?"

"He may or may not have resorted to drastic measures, but yeah."

"Good. He was under strict orders to do whatever he had to, no matter how devastating. Nice to see he succeeded for once."

"Yep. So…Red hair, plaid shirt, short shorts, Scottish accent…Amy Pond?"

Jo smiled. "Got it in one, Sam. Never pegged you for a Doctor Who fan."

"Why not? It's got some of the most comprehensive lore of any fandom, not to mention all the actual history it has jammed in everywhere. Wouldn't surprise me if we work a job someday where it'll pay to know what actually happened in Pompeii."

"Me either. Dean! Congrats on Operation Jack Skellington."

They shared a quick hug. "Pleasure was all mine, sweetheart."

Jo slugged him in the shoulder. "Just cause you're dressed like Han Solo doesn't give you the right to act like him."

"Whatever you say, princess. Amy Pond, right?"

"Lemme guess: you watch Doctor Who for all the fascinating history tidbits too?"

"Hell no, I watch for it for all the hot aliens. Where's your mom and Bobby?"

"Inside. Mom's got pie in the oven, and Bobby's setting up his ultimate horror movie marathon."

"Really?"

Sam snorted. "You said it yourself, Dean: Bobby's a nerd."

"So I did. After you."

"How's it goin', Ellen?"

"Fair to middlin', boys. How bout with you sorry cusses?"

"Not bad, not bad. So…aviators indoors, sleeveless tank top, Winchester 1887 strapped to your thigh…sorry, drawing a blank."

Sam slapped the back of his head. "Dude, even I recognize her. Sarah Conner, right? From T2?"

"Got better eyes than your brother, that's for sure. Now get outta my kitchen; either of you try and snitch some pie 'fore it's cool is gonna give themselves away by screamin'."

"Please tell me you made apple."

"Apple, pumpkin, and buttermilk."

"Buttermilk?"

"Goes good with coffee and Jack Daniels. Now git!"

They got.

"Need any help in there, Bobby?"

"Considerin' I can't exactly bend down to reach the plugs, I'm gonna go with yes. USB to the player, player to the TV, TV to the socket."

"You use USB's to store your movie?"

"You come up with a better way to store every single Elm Street and All Saints Day on one playlist, and I'll use that instead. 'Til then, button your yap and help your brother."

Dean saluted. "Yes, sir."

Sam's voice seemed to rise up from under the archaic TV stand. "Guess it's my turn to draw a blank. What exactly is your costume, Bobby?"

Bobby got halfway through opening his mouth before Dean beat him to the punch. "C'mon, Sam! The cloak, the gloves, the awesome facial hair? He's Stephen Strange, man!"

"That's Doctor Strange to you, idjit. Sorcerer Supreme, and Master of the Mystic Arts to boot."

Sam's head poked up. "Really? Huh."

"Huh? What's 'huh'."

Sam shrugged. "I dunno; guess I just figured that if you went with a comic book character, it'd be someone like…Professor X."

"…Do I look bald to you?"

"Relax, Bobby. He's just saying…"

"Saying what? That just cause I'm in a wheelchair, it automatically means I'm only allowed to dress like someone disabled? For your information, dirtball, Doctor Stephen Strange just so happens to have a bad case of shaky hands. Hands that were practically shredded in a car accident. Just cause you can't see it, don't mean someone ain't hurtin'."

You could practically feel the tension in the room slicing by.

Tension that was, thankfully, relieved by Jo's timely reappearance. "Cas is here; don't think he got the memo though. Looks 'bout like he normally does."

Dean grunted. "Yeah, well, it is his first Halloween. Got a lot to learn."

Wheels creaked along the floor. "Not as much as some, apparently. C'mon Jo; let's go see if the angel makes for better conversation than these two."

With a look that clearly meant 'I don't know what you two did, but I'll make you pay for it later', Jo followed Bobby back into the kitchen.

They had barely rounded the corner before Dean was rounding on Sam. "Dude, seriously? 'Professor X'? Since when have any of us followed a moral code even close to the one that self-righteous…"

"Dean!"

Dean stopped.

Sam sucked in his breath, and then slowly let it out again. "…I get it. I wasn't paying attention to what I was saying. And I…might have…insinuated some…things. Yeah. I'm…sorry."

"…Yeah, well, I'm not the one you need to say it to. Bitch."

"Jerk. Good memories?"

"Good memories." Dean went back to pulling wires through holes. "I wonder what Cas is gonna think of 'The Exorcist…"

"Of all the movies to pick, that's your first choice?"

"Which of us is actually fixing this backyard hodge podge?"

"Fair point. I'm gonna go…apologize to Bobby."

"Great. Oh, and Sam…don't touch my pie."

"Ellen's pie."

"We'll see."

"Hi Cas."

"Hello, Sam. Jo and Bobby, were just explaining to me the various evolutions that Halloween has undergone since humans first began to celebrate it. Would you be care to join us?"

"Sure thing, Cas. But first…I just wanna say I'm sorry, Bobby. I wasn't thinking, and I know that's no excuse, but…still."

"…Fine. Just don't expect me to take it easy on you later."

"Understood. So, Cas. Halloween. Gotta admit I'm not big on the whole idea; how 'bout you?"

"…I must confess, ever since last year's Samhain, I have spent a fair amount of time familiarizing myself with the various human traditions observed on this date. It's all very fascinating; the almost universally recognized acceptance that on this night, evil is somehow both stronger and weaker at the same time. The use of masks to grant yourself power against the forces of darkness, the images you choose granting various abilities based on your belief in their power. And of course, the human sacrifice. The wizard Harry Dresden's account of Chichen Itza was most descriptive on that front."

Sam snorted. "I'll bet. But that's not just what Halloween is for, Cas."

The angel tilted his head to the side in confusion. "It's not?"

"Nope. Halloween is…it's a symbol. It's the idea that…well, even on the darkest night of the year, when it seems like even the evil inside you just might win…that you can always find a way to laugh at it. And that laughter can give you strength. Mark Twain used to say, 'the one thing the Devil cannot stand is to be laughed at.'"

Cas' eyes lit up in understanding. "And a merry heart doeth good like a medicine."

"Exactly."

Cas looked down at his outfit. "I find myself wishing now I had taken the time to dress appropriately for the occasion."

Bobby harrumphed. "S'alright, feathers. Tell you what: anyone asks, just tell 'em you're dressed as a guy named Constantine. Demon-hunter with about the same fashion sense as you. Once managed to trick the Devil and the forces of Heaven into shooting each other in the back and leaving his soul unclaimable by any side."

"…I must confess to being unfamiliar with this Constantine; but if he is truly as intelligent a hunter as you say, then we should probably seek him out to help us in our efforts. Any man capable on taking on both Heaven and Hell simultaneously is one we cannot afford to have as our enemy. "

Sam cleared his throat. "Hate to break it to you, Cas, but I'm pretty sure Constantine's a fictional character."

"…Oh."

Bobby leaned back in his chair. "But who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky and figure out how to make a tulpa or a shabti with his name on it. Belief can be a powerful thing; maybe even good enough to power us up an immortal wizard."

"…It is an avenue we should probably explore. Later. For now…I believe Jo mentioned something about a 'horror movie fest'?"

"HEY DUDES! THE EXORCIST IS STARTING!"

"That'd be it, Cas." Sam turned just enough to make sure his voice would carry to the kitchen. "ELLEN? YOU JOINING US?"

"YOU BOZOS GO HEAD ON; I'LL BE THERE AS SOON AS MY PIES GET OUT!"

Sam smirked. "You heard the woman. After you guys."

"So, let me see if I understand: Freddie Krueger originally started out as the spirit of a child, but the more people came to believe in him, the stronger he grew?"

Sam nodded. "Sounds about right."

"So…how was he not drained of his power once he killed all those who possessed that belief in him?"

Sam stabbed into his pumpkin pie. "I dunno, Cas; urban legends always seem to stick around longer than they should, even after we kill what was responsible. Maybe it's like friction, or inertia: it can be hard to get a boulder rolling, but once its going, its awful hard to stop it."

"Like the human practice of rumors. Or fate."

"Something like that."

They sat for a while, just eating and drinking coffee.

"This buttermilk pie…I believe it's one of the few foods I can almost taste, especially when accompanied with the coffee."

"Hey man, Ellen's been cooking longer than Dean or I've been alive."

"I heard that!"

Sam smirked. "SORRY! So if anyone could figure out how to make something angels can taste, it would be her."

"I am inclined to agree with you. So…what's the next order of films for the 'marathon'?"

"I'm pretty sure Dean's planning to make this an all-nighter, so probably the rest of Freddie Krueger, the Friday the Thirteenth films, and then All Saints Day for when the sun finally starts coming up."

"Ah. Hence the coffee. I did wonder why you did not take your brother's offered bottle."

"Yeah; none of that for now. Later. When I actually wanna pass out."

"Understandable. Back to the film?"

"…Yeah, let's go. You can bring your pie with you . Bobby hates people getting up in the middle of a movie."

"I was planning on teleporting."

"It's the principle of the thing, Cas."

Somewhere about the hour mark of the third Nightmare on Elm Street, Dean elected to rest his eyes from the glaring screen for just a minute. His gaze wandered over each corner of the room; Sam and Jo sharing a bottle over something, Cas and Bobby both completely absorbed by a chess game, and Ellen already passed out in the corner. Some Sarah Conner. She'd even conked out without bothering to take the shotgun off.

That had to be uncomfortable.

Huh; almost midnight.

"Hey, um…guys."

Sam and Jo were the only ones who looked up.

"Bout midnight. Good spot for a pit break. I promise not to unpause 'fore you get back."

"Dude, you broke up a perfectly good conversation just to tell us that?"

"What? I was being polite!"

BOOOOOM!

"…Okay, what the hell was that?"

"DEAN!"

"What?"

"The clock?"

The clock.

It was stopped.

Then, ever so slowly…

It started going backwards.

"Oh, that can't be good."

Faster now.

"Okay, that's not good!"

Click!

Eleven o'clock.

Then everything went black.