Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.

So, teensy AU- this is the first time Dean and Odette will find out about Sam's powers.

Chapter name borrowed from Alice Cooper.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

On with it, shall we?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN- KEEPIN' HALLOWEEN ALIVE

"I hate Halloween," Sam gripes.

Dean enters the room, unwrapping a stick of candy.

Sam scowls.

"Really? After that guy choked down all those razor blades?"

Dean shrugs.

"It's Halloween, man."

"Yeah," Sam rolls his eyes. "For us, every day is Halloween."

Dean offers a bar to me.

I shake my head, sticking a cigarette in my mouth instead.

Dean's eyes narrow dangerously, and Sam looks close to taking away my lighter.

I stare at them, silently daring them to try it.

It's my lifeline-the only way I can keep myself from remembering.

Instead, Dean looks at our research.

"Anything interesting?"

"We're on a witch hunt, that's for sure," Sam replies.

"But this isn't your typical hex bag."

Sam indicates the bag laid out on the table.

I glance at the silver piece and something small and charred.

There's another object that looks like a dried up flower.

I pick it up.

"Goldthread," I say.

"An herb that's been extinct for over two hundred years. And this-"

I hold up the silver piece.

"Is Celtic, and I don't mean some New Age knock-off. It looks like the real deal, like six hundred years old real."

Dean picks up the small charred thing, sniffing it.

"And, um," Sam presses his lips together.

"That is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby."

"Ugh," Dean puts the bone down, disgusted.

"Gross."

Sam picks it up again.

"Relax, man, it's like, at least a hundred years old."

"Oh, right," Dean says sarcastically.

"Like that makes it better? Witches, man, they're so friggin' skeevy."

I sit back on the couch.

"Yeah, well it takes a pretty powerful one to put a bag like this together," I let out a puff of smoke.

"More juice than we've ever dealt with, that's for sure. What about you? Find anything on the victim?"

"This Luke Wallace?" Dean shakes his head.

"He was so vanilla that he made vanilla seem spicy."

I scoff.

"I can't find any reason why somebody would want this guy dead."

~Supernatural~

I didn't understand.

Another girl had been murdered-and she didn't seem to have any link with Luke Wallace.

Dean echoes my thoughts.

"I'm telling you, both these vic's are squeaky clean. There's no reason for wicked bitch payback."

"Maybe 'cause it's not about that," I say slowly.

"Wow," Dean rolls his eyes. "Insightful."

I ignore him.

"Maybe this witch isn't working a grudge, maybe she's working a spell. Check this out."

I read from the book in my hand.

"Three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest. Celtic calendar, the final day of the final harvest is October thirty-first."

I hand him the book.

"Halloween," Dean says.

"Exactly," Sam's brow furrows.

"What are, the, uh, blood sacrifices for?" Dean eyes the book dubiously.

"Uh," Sam pauses. "If I'm right, this witch is summoning a demon, and not just any demon, Samhain."

I blink.

Not him.

I'd heard talk of him down in hell-and none of it was good.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Dean cocks an eyebrow.

I knead my forehead.

"Dean, Samhain is the damn origin of Halloween. The Celts believe that October thirty-first was the one night of the year when the veil was thinnest between the living and the dead, and it was Samhain's night. I mean, masks were put on to hide from him, sweets left on doorsteps to appease him, faces carved into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcised centuries ago."

"How do you know all this?" Dean demands.

"You forget where I've been all these months," I say tightly.

There's a tense pause.

"This ritual can only be performed every six hundred years," Sam says quickly.

"And the six hundred year marker rolls around..."

Sam reluctantly replies.

"Tomorrow night."

~Supernatural~

Tracy the cheerleader.

The witch is an apple-bobbing cheerleader.

Guess I shouldn't be surprised.

We've talked to her teacher-she looks good for it.

My sixth sense prickles as my hand closes around the hotel doorknob.

Somebody is in our room.

Dean and Sam draw their guns, and I kick open the door, flinching back.

I'm face-to-face with Castiel.

"You!" I spit.

I'm about to push him out, when I notice the man in the corner.

"Who're you?" I demand sharply.

He turns around.

"My name is Uriel."

I freeze.

Amitiel's sword is in my hand in a split second.

Uriel's eyes narrow.

"Where did you get that?"

"None of your business," I fire back. "Why are you here?"

"The rising of Samhain," Castiel says. "Have you killed the witch?"

"No," I answer unwillingly. "But we know who it is."

Castiel walks over to the side table.

"Apparently, the witch knows who you are, too."

He picks up a hex bag, holding it aloft.

"This was inside the wall of your room. If we hadn't found it, one of you, or all of you, would be dead."

My retort is lost.

He just saved my life-again.

When will I ever stop owing him?

My anger is barely reigned in.

"Why do you even care?"

Castiel's eyes bore into mine.

"The rising of Samhain is one of the sixty-six seals."

Instantly I am transported back to hell, filled with smoke and ashes, and screams.

I remember Lucifer all too well.

Castiel's eyes are fixed on me, pleading with me, somehow, but I shield my mind from him.

I've trusted the wrong person.

I won't make that mistake again.

"Lucifer cannot rise," Castiel stresses.

"The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs."

"Okay, great," Dean glares at him with dislike.

"Now that you're here, why don't you tell us where the witch is, we'll gank her, and everybody goes home."

I don't like it.

I don't want his help.

"We are not omniscient," Castiel retorts.

"This witch is very powerful, she's cloaked even our methods."

"Okay," Sam sighs. "Well, we already know who she is, so if we work together-"

"Enough of this," Uriel cuts him off.

"Okay," I grip the sword tightly. "Who the hell are you and why should I care?"

"He's what you might call...a specialist," Castiel says haltingly.

"What kind of specialist?" Dean demands. "What are you gonna do?"

"You," Castiel's eyes search me out.

I know what he's asking for.

And I can't give it.

Even if it's killing me not to.

I just can't.

"All three of you," Castiel turns away from me.

"You need to leave this town immediately."

Suspicion instantly flares up.

"Why?"

Castiel's eyes flash.

"Because we're about to destroy it."