Chapter 2

"Dean?"

Carefully pushing the door to their room open, Sam peeked through the gap. Seeing his brother sit by the window, he ventured inside and sat down on his bed, pulling up his legs to cross them.

"You should get ready, Sammy," Dean stated wearily without looking at him. Truth be told, he was glad that it was his brother who sought him out and not Bobby. Being judged about how he handled his own flesh and blood by somebody who barely knew him just was not his thing.

"Are we still going?" Sam asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, we are," Dean nodded, still not turning his gaze away from the sunset over the junkyard.

"Thanks," Sam muttered and scooted off the bed. First, he started for the wardrobe, but then he crossed over to his brother. Standing behind him undecidedly, he just asked, "What did I say? Are you mad at me?"

Shaking his head, Dean still did not turn. When he answered, his voice sounded hoarse, "I'm not mad at you, Sammy. It's... just memories. Sorry. Get yourself ready."

"Okay," Sam agreed and went to put on his costume. While he changed, he mused about what Dean might be remembering. Given the fact that it came up over dinner, he suspected that his brother had recalled their mother. Sam himself hardly remembered her at all, which was why it was hard for him to grasp why Dean got into that mood. He could not miss what he did not know. What he did miss was merely the idea of a regular mom, of a regular family.

Once he was done changing, Sam left for the bathroom.

With a sigh, Dean finally turned around and opened a drawer to get out what he had collected the day before. Fastening a plastic bottle with salt, a wooden stake, an iron bar, and one of his hunting knives to his belt, he prepared himself.

"I'm ready!" Sam stated excitedly when he reappeared, his face now as white as snow except the dark rings around his eyes as well as blackened lips and nose.

"You're quite the make-up artist," Dean grinned at him, fondly reaching out to tuck a strand of his brother's unruly hair under the white hood of his skeleton costume. "C'mon, let's go."

"But you're not in costume yet."

"I am," Dean declared, gesturing at himself, "I'm going as a hunter."

Chuckling, Sam took him by his hand and dragged him outside. Downstairs, Bobby awaited them.

"Have fun, Sam," he said, giving the boy a lopsidedly grinning pumpkin lantern and a small bucket for the sweets before he briefly hugged him. Turning to Dean, he added, "You'll be back at one at the latest."

"We'll be back at midnight," Dean replied. "C'mon, Sammy."

Happily, Sam bounded out of the house and down the front porch. Dean had only barely caught up to him when they left the scrap yard through the big gate. From there, they marched side by side down the road into town.

"Dean?" Sam broke the silence between them in a chatty tone, "I know it's all supposed to be a fun tradition for the kids, going from house to house, collecting sweets in exchange for not playing tricks to the people..."

When he trailed off, Dean prodded, "But?"

"But what if there really are ghosts in town tonight?"

"Come again?"

"Our teacher explained that Halloween, or Samhain in Irish, used to be seen as the time when the boundaries between this world and the Afterlife thinned. That meant that the Aos Sí, the spirits or fairies, could more easily travel from back and forth. And that they become more active. Do you think there's any truth to it? I mean, after all, we both know that ghost are very very real. "

A low chuckle escaped Dean. It did not cease to amaze him how his little brother soaked up such knowledge.

"Sam, you know perfectly well that there doesn't need to be a special time for ghosts to become active," he explained. "Dad's been up against ghosts quite often, actually."

"I know that," Sam groused, "It's just... could there be even more than usual on a night like this?"

"Could be," Dean shrugged.

"Good that you've come as a hunter then," Sam teased good-naturedly.

"Oh, yeah?" Dean joked back, "Be careful, little skeleton, or I'll salt and burn you."

"You wouldn't dare!" Sam challenged.

"Don't try me!" Dean laughed, reaching out for his brother to tickle his side.

Laughing, Sam fell into a run, Dean close on his heels. Both breathed heavily when they reached their current school where they met a couple of kids, gathering for trick-and-treating. Most of them were about Sam's age or younger, the others were teenagers accompanying their siblings.

Glancing up at his brother, Sam saw him smile. His attention clearly was not on Sam but on one of the older girls.

"Do you know her?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, eyeing the redhead intently. "We're in the same class."

Sam saw his interest with trepidation. Of course, he knew that the difference of age would show sooner or later, and only recently, he had noticed subtle changes in his brother. About half a year ago, Dean would have ignored the girls. Now he hid an issue of Busty Asian Beauties under his mattress, which Dean certainly thought Sam did not know about. Along with his interests, his body changed, most notably his voice. Sam could hear that it became more masculine, deeper, more voluminous, and a touch coarse.

Preludes to their relationship changing as well.

Pushing the thought aside, Sam looked around for boys he knew and flinched when he spotted a clown. Hopefully, Dean had not noticed his fright. Sam did not know why he hated clowns but there was something about them that just gave him the creeps. Then, he discovered a pirate and a zombie, two of his classmates, among the others. Nudging Dean, he steered his brother in their direction.

"Hey, Colin! Hey, Shelby!"

They waved back and a second later, they were chatting happily. Dean stood somewhat awkwardly to the side, looking around for the group of older children. Studying them closer, he noted that most of them were costumed as well. Even some of the teenagers wore masks.

Dean just started to cross over to the teens, when someone stepped into his path. Frozen in his tracks, the elder Winchester could not help but stare at the girl in front of him. A voluminous mane of long, white waves cascaded over her shoulders, topped by a pink, white, and black flower crown. In white and black she had painted an intricate pattern, giving her face the shape of a skull. Compared to its real life counterpart, it looked much prettier. So pretty actually, that Dean could not tear his eyes off her sugar skull ensemble, a costume typical for the Mexican Day of the Dead.

"Hello," she smirked, "You're Sam's brother, right?"

"Y-yes," he stammered, surprised by being addressed, "I'm Dean."

"Erika," she replied. "You don't like Halloween?"

"Why?"

"No costume..."

"Oh..." Looking down at himself, Dean explained, "I'm a hunter."

"Wouldn't you be dressed in green and brown then?" Erika wanted to know. "Wear a quilted vest and carry a rifle?"

"Not that kind of hunter," Dean laughed, declaring proudly, "I'm hunting monsters."

This time, she laughed as well.

"In that case, you'll be busy tonight."

"Probably," he snickered, secretly amused knowing that she would run for her life if she knew the truth.

"Dean?" Sam called out for him. "Can Colin and Shelby come with us?"

"Sure," Dean replied absently.

"Can I join in, too?" Erika asked. "With my little sister?"

When Dean nodded, she waved at a young girl in a costume similar to hers to come over. Instead of pink and black, her colors were shades of blue and a deep purple, her face adorned with sequins in addition to the painting.

"Boys?" Erika turned to Sam and his friends. "It's okay that Ronni and I come along as well, right?"

"A girl?" Colin complained.

"At least her costume's cool," Shelby cut in.

"You won't be a scaredy-cat, right?" Colin asked the girl who shook her head.

"Okay."

Shelby nodded his consent while Sam just shrugged. One look at Dean told him clearly that he liked to have the girl's big sister around, so he could hardly disagree.

"Thanks, boys," Erika said, reaching into the flower-adorned bag she carried and getting sweets out to put them into the boys' buckets. "Go, Ronni. Have fun."

While the four kids ran off toward the first houses, Dean and Erika strolled behind, keeping an eye on them from the distance.

"So... Halloween in Sioux Falls, huh?" Dean queried, "What are you gonna be up to when the little kids are in bed?"

"Not much, actually."

"You're not going to meet with friends and tell each other ghost stories?" Dean challenged... and grimaced when his voice jumped to a squeaky cadence unexpectedly. Ever since his voice began to change with puberty, it did that occasionally. Thankfully, Erika seemed to ignore it. "C'mon. Watching the kids go trick-and-treating doesn't really cut it, does it?"

"I guess not," Erika shrugged. "There's not much you can do around here. We might sit around and chat later, but that's about it. Sometimes we have a bonfire if we can get enough firewood."

"So what you're saying is your town's boring?"

"Pretty much," Erika chuckled. "Only thing interesting around here is this rundown house that no kid is going to be caught dead in. Everyone says it's haunted, even the adults. It's rotting away for years now."

"Sounds interesting," Dean smirked. "We should check it out later."

"No way! Wild horses couldn't drag me to old Nicolas Barnes' house. "

Mentally filing away the information, Dean came back, "Would be a job for a hunter, though. So where's this house?"

"I wouldn't go near it if I were you," Erika implored him, "People go missing there, or so they say."

If anything, that statement only encouraged him rather than dissuade him from going there. "One more reason to check it out. C'mon, tell me."

"It's right next to the cemetery," Erika relayed. "On its east side."

"Cemetery," Dean grinned with a quirk of his brow. "Awesome."

xXx

Three hours later, Dean had not gotten any further with Erika. Sure they'd spent the night talking but the elder Winchester would've liked if he had been able to spend some alone time with the girl. He even thought about lifting a few drinks from the local connivence store in order to impress her but in the end, thought better of it.

After traipsing across the whole town, the kids had collected all the sweets they could carry. They already had dropped Colin and Shelby off, and Erika was just saying goodbye in order to take Ronni home.

"See you around, Dean," she said and breathed a kiss onto his cheek.

Grinning stupidly, the elder Winchester watched as the two girls walked away.

"So, did you have fun, Sammy?" he asked after a while. His younger brother sat on a bench, unwrapping a chocolate bar. He had shoved off the white hood of his costume, revealing a mop of auburn hair. A smirk cracked Dean's features at the idea of tackling the mane with a couple of hair clips.

"I did," Sam answered around a bite of chocolate. "Thanks, Dean."

Still smirking to himself, Dean queried, "What do you think about the stories about that Barnes guy?"

"That Bobby would've sorted him out if the tales were true?" Sam queried in return. Holding up his bucket, he asked, "Do you want something?"

Dean shook his head.

"Maybe we should have a look at the house," he suggested, "See if there's a grain of truth to the story. Bobby could help us put Barnes to rest."

Rolling his eyes, Sam replied, "Do you really think that a ghost could haunt a house in this town for years without Bobby noticing?"

"You've got a point, bro," Dean shrugged. "But we could still have a look. Just to be on the safe side."

"You just want to scare me," Sam sighed.

"Will it work?" Dean teased.

"Not yet, no," Sam shook his head and got up from the bench. "C'mon, let's brighten your Halloween a little."

Grinning widely, Dean patted his brother's shoulder before they started toward the cemetery. Finding Barnes' house was not at all difficult. The yard had turned into a wilderness and the building had obviously suffered from the elements. Dark yawning holes peppered the sides of the house where the glass had been broken from the windows.

"Spooky," Dean remarked as they approached.

"If you say so," Sam sighed.

The lock of the front door did not pose a challenge to Dean. Quickly, he had it picked and shoved the door open to let them in. Producing a flashlight, Dean stepped inside. Putting his lantern and the bucket down on the porch, Sam followed close behind.

"Maybe we should've told Bobby where we were going," Sam mused aloud. "Just in case."

"I thought you weren't scared," Dean shot back.

"I'm not scared," Sam objected, "I'm just saying that we shouldn't hunt without him knowing."

"You can wait outside if you want," Dean remarked.

Shaking his head, Sam trotted along. They crossed the hall into the living room and from there into the kitchen. Returning to the hall, they peeked through another door, leading to a study. Curiously, Dean paused, letting the ray of light drift back to something he had spotted.

"A statue?" Sam wondered at the almost life-size statue of an angel. "In here?"

It stood in front of a big shelf filled with books, its big wings folded on its back. One might have thought it was choosing a volume if it did not cover its eyes with its hands as if it was weeping.

"Maybe Barnes thought it was too valuable to stand out in the garden," Dean shrugged. "C'mon. Let's search the rest of the house."

They had just approached the stairs to the first floor when he heard Sam gasp behind him.

"What is it, Sammy?"

"I-I... D-did you hear it, too?" Sam's voice shook a little as he clasped his brother's jacket. "I think there's... something. There."

Shining the light in the direction Sam indicated, Dean looked around. The rays of his flashlight moved towards the entry to the study and...

...fell onto the stone angel that now stood in the doorway, its eyes still covered by its hands.

"Dean?" Sam whimpered, searching for contact with his brother and squeezing his hand firmly when he found it.

"What the...! That's not possible," Dean mused aloud, eyeing the statue intently. "It's made of stone."

"I'm sure Dad has seen weirder things," Sam muttered anxiously. "Dean, let's get out of here."

Curiously studying every inch of the weeping angel, Dean stepped a little closer until the hold on his hand stopped him. Looking the angel right in the face, he queried, "What are you?"

"It's creepy," Sam grouched, tugging on Dean's hand. "Come, let's go home."

For a second, Dean bristled at Sam calling Bobby's scrapyard home. With a pang of hurt, he realized that it was the closest they got to a home. They did not call the seasoned hunter uncle without a reason. In some ways, Bobby was more a father to them than John was, mostly in his efforts of treating them to everyday activities like throwing baseballs with Dean or decorating his house for Halloween to make Sam happy.

A more insistent tug on his hand helped Dean decide.

"Alright, Sammy," he agreed. "We're leaving."

Unable to tear his eyes off the ominous angel, still wracking his mind about what it might be, Dean let Sam lead him to the front door. Stepping on something like a pebble or stick, he lost his balance for a second. When he looked back up, he gasped with surprise, stiffening up and pulling his hand out of Sam's grasp to reach for his knife instead.

"Dean?" his brother gasped anxiously. "What's wrong?"

"It moved!" Dean panted, staring wide-eyed at the angel that clearly came after him now, frozen in motion, one arm stretched out toward him and its wings raised behind it. One might expect an angel to have an eternal look of serenity, but this was not the case. As if it was alive, this creature's face was immobilized in a snarl, fangs clearly visible within its open mouth.

"What is it?" Sam whimpered.

"I don't know," Dean hoarsely replied, not daring to take his eyes off. "I just looked away for a second and it moved across half of the hallway."

"Then we shouldn't leave it out of our sight?" Sam asked dreadfully.

"Probably not."

Keeping his eyes on the statue, Dean wracked his mind in an attempt to figure out how the statue had been able to move and whether or not he would be able to stop it with what few weapons he had. The knife probably would not leave a scratch, even though he felt better holding it. In the end, he put it away and got the iron bar out instead, weighing it in his hand.

"You think that's the ghost?" Sam queried, knowing that iron repelled ghosts. "Erika said that people went missing here, right?"

"That ain't no ghost," Dean replied, his voice even coarser than before. For a split second, his eyes closed when he had to blink. "Holy Sh-!" Seeing that the angel had approached another two yards, both arms stretched out and fingers splayed to grab him, Dean squealed.

"Sammy?" he called out for his brother, voice slightly shaking as the whole magnitude of his misjudgment dawned on him. "You should go and get Bobby."

"No!" Sam cried. "I won't leave you!"

"Sam!" Dean shouted with more anger than he intended. "That thing just lunged at me in the blink of an eye!"

"Then I'll look at it," Sam suggested. "You get out of there."

"No!"

"Dean, you can't keep standing there all night."

"I can stand here long enough for you to go get Bobby," Dean declared with little conviction. Truth be told, he was shaking inside, scared by the angel seemingly trapped in the cone of his flashlight.

"But..."

"Sammy!" Dean persisted, finding the courage to take a stand due only to the thought that his little brother had to make it out alive. "What are you waiting for? Get the hell out of here!"

"I can't go without you!" Sam all but sobbed.

"You've got to!"

"No!" Sam yelled. "Get to the door! I'll look at it!"

"Samuel, no!" Dean cried out, feeling how his brother pulled on the back of his jacket. Stumbling backwards, he lost track of the angel, the light dancing across the hallway. When he shone at the angel again, it still stood in the same place, frozen in the same posture.

"See?" he heard Sam's shaky voice. "It worked."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean spat. "And now what?"

"Now... kill it?"

Chuckling hysterically, Dean gasped, "How?"

Panic tightened his chest when he saw Sam's gaze flickering at him for just a second. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the angel's motion.

Sam shouldn't have done that!

Shining his light in search of the angel, Dean darted forward in order to protect his little brother.

"Dean!" he heard Sam shout.

Reflexively, Dean looked around at him to see whether he was unharmed. For a split second, he caught sight of him before his world tilted sickeningly. Thrown into a spin, Dean cried out in shock. Though he did not feel any pain, he knew that something terrible had happened.

Caving to vertigo, Dean passed out.

tbc...