"Come on, Sammy. Time to get rid of some monsters. This is what we've been practicing for."
The small boy shuffled, caught between wishing to please his older brother and his uncertainty. Dean's moods had gotten worse since their mother's death, John's job moving them from place to place, leaving the older boy anxious, unsettled, like a soldier enlisted too young, just waiting to be called to battle.
Something cold and sharp was shoved into Sam's hand. Something Sam probably wasn't allowed to have at his age.
"I don't know, Dean… Just us? What if this is a bad idea? What if Dad finds out?"
As if on cue, their father appeared in the doorway, a dark silhouette against a warm room Sam wished he was hiding in. Dean nudged Sam, and the younger boy hastily shoved the blade beneath the folds of his shirt.
"You boys going out for Halloween?" John asked. He tried to smile, but it was getting harder these days, his mind too preoccupied, the preciousness of his boys' childhood years lost within the stark reality of his own.
"We're going out to kill monsters!" Sam suddenly cried out. He waited to be reprimanded for sharing the secret; a scolding would be better than going out into the night. He wasn't ready. He didn't know if he'd ever be ready. Young as he was, Sam knew this wasn't the kind of life he wanted. But rather than the saving grace of a punishment, John only sighed.
"Dean." John scowled, shaking his head. "Stop telling your brother monsters are real."
The phone rang, their father swore, and the door was shut, leaving them in the weak light of the front steps.
"Dean… Dad said… "
"Come on."
"But Dad said it was just a fire, Dean! Bad wiring and stuff! It was no one's fault Mom died!"
"He just doesn't know any better," Dean whispered in Sammy's ear. "Now, come on. Time to go hunting."
Sam saw the way Dean was staring after a pair of laughing teenagers walking down the street. Their faces were gruesome and twisted, but it was only a part of their costumes.
But Sam didn't think his brother knew that anymore.