AN: Hey besties! Guess who's chipping away at the writers block bit by bit! It's lovely to be back writing again, and I can't say how long this creative streak will last, but I hope I can get a good few chapters of sweet monstery goodness out to you after such a long time away xoxo

Love, Azzie

Chapter 7: It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

By the time it got to mid afternoon on the thirtieth of October, Mrs Wallace's kitchen had already been swarming with police and forensics teams on several occasions since her husband's gruesome passing. But none were quite the same as the pair of agents currently investigating, the taller one speaking to her as the shorter one took a look around the kitchen.

"Now how many razor blades did they find?"

"Two on the floor, one in his stomach and one was stuck in his throat. He swallowed four of them. How is that even possible?" She noticed the shorter man nosying around the oven, and frowned. "The candy was never in the oven."

Dean tried to sound as sympathetic as possible. "We just have to be thorough, Mrs. Wallace."

Sam continued with his questioning. "Did the police find any razors in the rest of the candy?"

"No, I mean, I don't think so. I just – I can't believe it. You hear urban legends about this stuff, but it actually happens?"

"More than you might imagine." While they'd been having this conversation, Dean stuck his head out from behind the fridge, waving a suspicious pouch at Sam behind the sobbing woman's back. A hex bag. So this was definitely part of their remit. "Mrs. Wallace, did Luke have any enemies?"

"Enemies?"

"Anyone who might have held a grudge against him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Co-workers? Neighbors? Maybe.. a woman."

Mrs Wallace's face twitched, and it was clear that he'd touched a nerve with that line of questioning. "Are you suggesting an affair?"

"Is it possible?"

"No! No, Luke would nev–"

"I'm very sorry. We just have to consider all possibilities."

"If someone wanted to kill my husband, don't you think they'd find a better way than a razor in a piece of candy he might eat?"

Neither of the brothers really had an answer to give, already knowing that the man had definitely had a particularly powerful enemy out there somewhere…

By the time Dean got back from his shopping trip, Sam had his usual setup of laptop and research books well established on the motel room's small coffee table. He glanced up from the hex bag as his brother tossed his keys down on the table, digging a piece of Halloween candy from a fresh bag and tossing it in his mouth. Sam couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

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

Dean shrugged. "It's Halloween, man."

"Yeah, for us every day is Halloween."

"Don't be a downer. Anything interesting?"

"Well, we're on a witch hunt, that's for sure, but this isn't your typical hex bag." He gestured at the little pile of objects that had been contained in the little fabric bundle. Among them was a coin sized piece of silver, a dried thread of some kind of plant or flower, and a small charred object. "Look at this. Goldthread, an herb that's been extinct for two hundred years. And the coin, this is Celtic, and I don't mean some new age knock-off. It looks like the real deal, like 600 years old real." Dean picked up the charred thing, sniffing it - a movement that made Sam wince. "And um… that is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby."

"Ugh. Gross."

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

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

"Yeah, well it takes a pretty powerful one to put a bag like this together. More juice than we've ever dealt with, that's for sure. What about you? Find anything on the victim?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "This Luke Wallace? He was so vanilla that he made vanilla seem spicy. I can't find any reason why somebody would want this guy dead. I mean, there must be something, but…"

The two of them fell into silence, leafing through the handful of resources they had for the next several hours. They probably would have got slightly further with their investigations, had the police radio tracker that they'd set up on the windowsill not crackled into life, blaring out the news of a crime scene that most definitely fit the bill of what they were looking for.

Whatever party had been going on, it had obviously come to a messy end. Sam and Dean walked down the basement stairs, taking in the sight of the cheap decorations and poorly hidden bottles of booze. One of the actual police officers was questioning a pretty blonde teenager, a short distance from a large tub that had been used for apple bobbing. Sam moved to join the questioning, but Dean stopped him.

"I got this one."

The younger Winchester rolled his eyes. "Two words: Jail. Bait."

Dean pretended to look scandalised. "I would never –"

As Sam wandered off to search the room for a hex bag, Dean started listening in on the conversation the officer was having with the teenager.

"It's just so weird. The water in the tub – it wasn't hot, I had just been in there myself."

He held up his badge. "Your friend didn't happen to know a man named Luke Wallace? Agent Seger, F.B.I."

The girl shook her head. "Um, who's Luke Wallace?"

"He died yesterday."

"I don't know who that is."

He glanced towards the other side of the room as Sam wiggled another hex bag between his fingertips, nodding to show he'd seen it.

"Okay, thank you miss, uh… sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Oh, I'm Tracy. Tracy Davis."

Just as it had been earlier, the two brothers had buried themselves in research, digging into both the victims as well as the ingredients of the hex bags, which had been identical. Dean poked the computer screen in annoyance.

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

"Maybe 'cause it's not about that."

"Wow, insightful."

"Maybe this witch isn't working the grudge, maybe they're working a spell. Check this out." Sam, clearly, had found something. "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 31st." He passed the book over to his brother so he could see the illustrations, to take in the rest of the information.

"Halloween."

"Exactly."

"What exactly are the, uh, blood sacrifices for?"

"Uh, if I'm right, this witch is summoning a demon, and not just any demon – Samhain."

"Am I supposed to be impressed?"

Sam couldn't believe that his brother didn't see the connection. "Dean, Samhain is the damn origin of Halloween. The Celts believe that October 31st was the one night of the year when the veil was the 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."

"So even though Samhain took a trip downstairs, the tradition stuck."

"Exactly, only now instead of demons and blood orgies Halloween is all about kids, candy and costumes."

"Okay, so some witch wants to raise Samhain and take back the night?"

"Dean, this is serious."

"I am serious!"

"We're talking heavyweight witchcraft. This ritual can only be performed every six hundred years."

"And the six hundred year marker rolls around…?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Naturally." Dean took another look at the drawing of the demon in the book. It was depicted standing on a large heap of bodies, a decapitated head in its hands. "Well it sure is a lot of death and destruction for one demon."

"That's because he likes company. Once he's raised, Samhain can do some raising of his own."

"Raising what, exactly?"

"Dark, evil crap and lots of it, I mean, they follow him around like the friggin' Pied Piper."

"So, we're talking ghosts."

"Yeah."

"Zombies."

"Mm-hmm."

"Leprechauns?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean –"

"Hey, those little dudes are scary. Small hands."

"Look, it just starts with ghosts and ghouls, this sucker keeps on going, by night's end we are talking every awful thing we have ever seen. Everything we fight, all in one place."

He groaned. "Oh, it's gonna be a slaughterhouse."

The next day came, and the two of them had split up - Dean was on surveillance duty, keeping an eye on the Wallace house, while Sam kept searching for more information. Dean's phone rang, and he quickly swallowed the piece of candy he had in his mouth before picking it up. "Hey Sammy."

"How's it going?"

"Awesome, yeah, I talked with Mrs. Razor Blade again. I've been sitting out in front of her house for hours and I've got a big steamy pile of nothing."

"Look Dean, someone planted those hex bags, someone with access to both houses. There's gotta be some connection."

"Yeah, well I hope we find 'em soon cause I'm starting to cramp like a –" He stopped suddenly, seeing something outside the house he was watching. "Son of a bitch."

"Oh, quit whining."

"No, Sam, I mean, son of a bitch." He watched Tracy approach the Wallace's front door, watched as she was greeted with a smile by the widow. This was something.

When he arrived back at the motel, Sam had already started digging into the teenager's background.

"So, our apple-bobbing cheerleader?"

"Tracy? The Wallaces' babysitter. Told me she never even heard of Luke Wallace."

"Huh, interesting look for a centuries-old witch."

"Yeah, well, if you were a six-hundred-year-old hag and you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn't you go for a hot cheerleader? I would, hmm…" He got lost in thought for a moment, before Sam coughed at him, getting his attention again.

"Well, Tracy's not as wholesome as she looks. Did some digging – apparently she got into a violent altercation with one of her teachers, got suspended from school."

He'd managed to pull up a set of notes on the laptop, and passed it over so Dean could read what it said.

NOTE: Student was suspended for a violent act on a teacher.

STUDENT NAME Tracy Davis

ADDRESS 27 Lirewenshire Lane

GRADE 11

HOME ROOM Mr. Goldwyn

COUNCELLOR Mrs. Parks

EMERGENCY CONTACT Mary Davis 555-0892

And now that they knew where to look, they wasted no time setting off.

Dean couldn't deny it - the high school's art room was seriously freaking him out. One of the art projects that had been hung up across the room was based on masks, and a particularly haunting one was lingering in his mind. Flashes of hell were passing through his memory at the sight of it, and he almost jumped out of his skin when Sam came up behind him.

"Bring back memories?"

"What do you mean?"

"Being a teenager, all that angst."

Relieved that he hadn't been caught out, Dean relaxed a little. "Oh."

"What'd you think I meant?"

"Nothing." He looked away, catching sight of a student putting a piece into a kiln - a suspiciously bong-shaped piece. He grinned. "Now that brings back memories."

The teacher they'd been waiting for came into the room, checking on a couple of the students that were working on their art before coming to stand with them.

"You gentlemen wanna talk to me?"

Sam nodded. "Ah, Mr. Harding-"

"Oh, please, Don."

"Okay, Don."

"Even my students call me Don." He shook both of their hands, brushing his lank hair back from his face as they pulled out their badges.

Dean tucked his badge back into his pocket. "I'm Agent Getty, this is Agent Lee. We just had a few questions about, uh, Tracy Davis."

"Uh, yeah, Tracy, uh, bright kid, loads of talent. It's a shame she got suspended."

"Uh, you two had a… uh, violent altercation."

"Yeah, she exploded. If Principal Murrow hadn't walked by when he did, Tracy would have clawed my eyes out." He laughed slightly.

Sam frowned. "Why?"

"I, uh, you know, I was only trying to rap with her about her work. It had gotten inappropriate and disturbing."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "More disturbing, than, uh, those guys?" And he gestured at the masks hanging behind him.

"She would cover page after page with these bizarre cryptic symbols, and then there were the drawings. Detailed images of killings, gory, primitive, and she would depict herself in the middle of them, participating."

Hearing this, Sam pulled out a clear bag with one of the Celtic coins inside. "Symbols, what kind of symbols? Uh, anything like this?"

Don nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I think that might have been one of them."

"You know where Tracy is now?"

"I would imagine her apartment."

"Her apartment?"

"Yeah, she got here about a year ago, alone, as I understood it, as an emancipated teen. God only knows what her parents were like."

The brothers shared a look, sensing that they were getting closer and closer to their target.

Having decided that 'divide and conquer' was the best way to make as much progress as possible in the little time they had to sort this whole shitshow out, they split up and agreed to re-meet at a set time. As Dean parked the Impala back in the motel's car park, Sam walked over to the passenger side, leaning on the roof.

"So?"

"Tracy was nowhere I could find. Any luck with her friends?"

"Nah, luck is not our style. Her friends don't know where she is. It's like the bitch popped a broomstick."

Irritated by their lack of new information, they headed towards their room, hoping that hitting the books again would give them something else useful.

"She could be making the third sacrifice any time."

Dean huffed. "Yes, thank you Sam."

They were interrupted by a small boy in a homemade astronaut costume, who thrust his candy bucket under their noses the second he got close enough.

"Trick or treat."

Dean pulled a face. "This is a motel."

"So?"

"So we don't have any candy." He noticed Sam making a gesture towards the car, and not wanting to share any of it, he shut that shit down as fast as possible. "We did, but it's gone. Sorry kid, we can't help ya."

The astronaut looked highly unimpressed.

"I want candy."

"Well, I think you've had enough."

Glaring with a vehemence that they really hadn't been expecting from someone who looked to be barely ten years old, the astronaut shoved his way past them and stormed off.

Sam moved to unlock the door, grinning at the look on his brother's face.

But upon entering the motel room, Sam's face dropped and he drew his gun - it wasn't empty, and he didn't recognise the figures that lingered in the low light.

"Who are you?!"

Conversely, these people were incredibly familiar to Dean, and he dashed forwards, shoving his brother's gun down.

"Sam! Sam, wait! It's Castiel. Just relax, okay? It's Castiel and Jophiel."

Sam looked completely stunned, an awestruck smile on his face. Neither angel was quite how he'd pictured them in his head, what with Castiel looking like an accountant and Jophiel looking like she'd just come from a biker club meeting in her heavy boots and blood-red leather jacket, but he could sense the power they exuded.

"Oh my God – er – uh – I didn't mean to – sorry. It's an honor, really, I – I've heard a lot about you."

Seeing the slight panic on his face at the accidental blasphemy, Jophiel grinned, and reached out to shake his hand. "Relax Sam, we aren't going to bite. It's good to finally meet you. I have tried before, but… you know, wrong place wrong time and all that."

Castiel watched the gesture with mild curiosity, not attempting to mimic it himself.

"Hello Sam."

The novelty of the angels having worn off for him a long time ago, Dean hugged Jophiel as he said hi to Castiel, the same way he would greet any other hunter he hadn't seen in a while.

"Hey, Joey. Oh, thanks, by the way. You know, for the visit when I was… out of it. That ghost fever was kicking my ass."

The little brunette patted his back fondly, not noticing the look on Sam's face, the jealousy in the younger Winchester's eyes as he saw just how closely Dean had managed to bond with these angels. Dean hadn't even believed they were real, and now he was practically best friends with one! It just didn't seem fair…

"I know, you really looked like shit. Nice to see you up and kicking again." Cas coughed slightly, and she pulled back. "Anyway, we're not really here for a social visit. It's business, unfortunately."

Dean groaned. "Oh, I knew it. What now?"

Cas took over. "The raising of Samhain, have you stopped it?"

"Why?"

"Dean, have you located the witch?"

"Yes, we've located the witch." He mimicked Cas' tone, hoping to get a laugh out of the others, to no avail.

"And is the witch dead?"

"No, but we know who she is, and-"

Joey tutted, walking over to the dresser next to Dean's bed and holding up a little hex bag, identical to the ones they'd discovered previously. "Apparently the witch knows who you are too. Good thing you've got someone keeping an eye on you, huh?"

Cas looked serious. "This was inside the wall of your room. If we hadn't found it, surely one or both of you would be dead. Do you know where the witch is now?"

The boys shook their heads, looking like they were trying to come up with an answer. But before either of them could speak, Joey's head snapped to the left, and she looked rather rattled.

"Uriel's dropping in. I can't stay. I was never here - understood?" And before anyone could answer her, she vanished. Dean frowned at Cas.

"What's that all about?"

The remaining angel sighed. "Jophiel has a history of… let's say, authority problems. Most of Heaven doesn't readily tolerate rebels. Uriel has much the same opinion."

"So how is she still an angel, if they don't like her?"

"I never said they don't like her." For the first time, Castiel smiled slightly. "She's very highly ranked, she just… doesn't always follow Heaven's suggestions to the letter."

Another figure appeared in the room, his back to them as he stared out of the window. He was tall and imposing, a black man in an expensive suit and well-shined shoes. Castiel's expression dropped back to its usual neutral state.

"Uriel."

The aforementioned angel turned to face them, staring coldly at Sam.

"Sam Winchester. The boy with the demon blood. Glad to see you've ceased your extracurricular activities. Let's keep it that way."

Getting a feeling for why Joey didn't like this one, Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay, chuckles."

"Have you located the witch?"

"We're working on it. What do you care anyway? It's just one witch."

There was a silent exchange between the angels, and Cas answered his question.

"The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals."

"So this is about your buddy Lucifer."

Uriel scoffed. "Lucifer is no friend of ours."

"It's just an expression."

More familiar with Dean's… Dean-isms, Cas continued. He could sense a fight starting if he didn't keep the conversation on track. "Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs."

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

"We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful, she's cloaked even to our methods."

Having been stunned into silence for most of the conversation so far, Sam finally found the composure to respond. "Okay, well we already know who she is, so if we work together –"

Uriel waved a hand dismissively. "Enough of this."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Okay, who exactly are you and why should I care?"

Cas looked uncomfortable. "Uriel is what you might call a… specialist."

"What kind of specialist? What are you gonna do?"

"You – uh, both of you – you need to leave this town immediately."

"Why?"

"Because we're about to destroy it."

It took a moment for the brothers to fully comprehend exactly what he was saying, and Dean raised an eyebrow. "So this is your plan, you're gonna smite the whole friggin' town?"

"We're out of time. This witch has to die, the seal must be saved."

Sam looked horrified. "There are a thousand people here!"

Uriel was completely apathetic as he corrected the taller brother. "One thousand two hundred and fourteen."

"And you're willing to kill them all?"

"This isn't the first time I've… purified a city."

Sensing the change in atmosphere, Cas tried to justify things. "Look, I understand this is regrettable…"

But Dean didn't exactly like that. "Regrettable?"

"We have to hold the line. Too many seals have broken already."

"So you screw the pooch on some seals and this town has to pay the price?"

"It's the lives of one thousand against the lives of six billion. There's a bigger picture here."

"Right, cause you're bigger picture kind of guys."

"Lucifer cannot rise! He does and hell rises with him. Is that something that you're willing to risk?"

Sam held his hands up placatingly. "We'll stop this witch before she summons anyone. Your seal won't be broken and no one has to die."

Scoffing, Uriel gestured to Cas. "We're wasting time with these mud monkeys. Come."

The other angel looked like he'd rather do anything other than go with him, but he clearly didn't feel that he had a choice. "I'm sorry, but we have our orders."

This really wasn't how Sam had imagined angels to be, and he couldn't help but be disappointed. "No, you can't do this, you're angels, I mean aren't you supposed to – You're supposed to show mercy."

"We have no choice."

Dean shook his head, equally disappointed. "Of course you have a choice. I mean, come on, what? You've never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?"

"Look, even if you can't understand it, have faith. The plan is just."

"How can you even say that?"

"Because it comes from heaven, that makes it just."

"Oh, it must be nice, to be so sure of yourselves."

"Tell me something, Dean, when your father gave you an order, didn't you obey?"

That was a fairly low blow, and Dean took a second to remind himself that punching an angel square in the face probably wasn't going to end well for him. "Well sorry boys. Looks like the plans have changed."

Uriel raised an eyebrow, his face painted with contempt. "You think you can stop us?"

"No, but if you're gonna smite this whole town, then you're gonna have to smite us with it, because we are not leaving. See, you went to the trouble of busting me out of hell. I figure I'm worth something to the man upstairs. So you wanna waste me, go ahead, see how he digs that."

"I will drag you out of here myself!"

"Yeah, but you'll have to kill me, then we're back to the same problem. I mean, come on, you're gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch. Sounds to me like you're compensating for something. We can do this. We will find that witch and we will stop the summoning."

"Castiel! I will not let these peop–"

"Enough!" Cas held up a hand and Uriel fell silent. He was clearly sick and tired of the arguing, and he already knew whose side he would rather take. And he damn well knew who Jophiel would be standing by if she was here. "I suggest you move quickly. Or we will not have a choice."

Sitting in the Impala and taking a moment to work out how best to approach the situation, Dean knew that Sam wasn't happy. It couldn't have been more obvious if he'd been wearing a t-shirt saying 'I'm Fucking Miserable Right Now'.

"What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Bull."

Toying with the hex bag, Sam sighed. "I thought they'd be different."

"Who, the angels?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I tried to tell ya."

"I just… I mean, I thought they'd be righteous."

"Well, they are righteous, I mean, that's kinda the problem. Of course there's nothing more dangerous than some a-hole who thinks he's on a holy mission."

"But, I mean, this is God? And Heaven? This is what I've been praying to?"

"Look man, I know you're into the whole God thing, you know, Jesus on a tortilla and stuff like that. But just because there's a couple of bad apples doesn't mean the whole barrel's rotten. I mean, for all we know, God hates these jerks. And hey, I'm telling you right now, Joey's an angel. Like actually, a really nice person to be around. Maybe there's more of them like her. Don't give up on this stuff, is all I'm saying. Babe Ruth was a dick but baseball's still a beautiful game." When the only response he got was Sam picking through the contents of the hex bag, he huffed. "Well, are you gonna figure out a way to find this witch, or are you just gonna sit there fingering your bone?"

Glad for the excuse to change the subject, Sam hummed. "You know how much heat it would take to char a bone like this, Dean?"

"No."

"A lot, I mean, more than a fire or some kitchen oven."

"Okay, Betty Crocker, what does that mean?"

"It means we make a stop."

Now that the school day was over, they could sift through the masses of detritus in Don's classroom without having to worry about being caught and having to explain themselves. Dean peered inside one of the kilns as Sam headed for the man's desk.

"So Tracy used the kiln to char the bone, what's the big deal?"

"Dean, that hex bag turned up in our room, not after we talked to Tracy –"

Suddenly it occurred to him. "After we talked to the teacher."

"Exactly." Sam kept poking about in the drawers until he noticed that the bottom one was padlocked shut. "Hey, look at this."

Grabbing a small hammer off the table next to him, Dean came over and hit the lock repeatedly until it broke away, tugging the drawer open as he tossed the hammer over his shoulder. The first thing he saw in there was a little bowl of bones - some charred, some not.

Sam looked mildly unwell. "My God, those are all from children."

Dean's expression was equally grim. "And I'm guessing he's not saving them for the dog."

As the sun set, Castiel and Uriel watched a group of children skip by in Halloween costumes, the former with mild interest, the latter with obvious disdain.

"The decision's been made."

Uriel laughed. "By a mud monkey."

"You shouldn't call them that."

"Ah, it's what they are, savages. Just plumbing on two legs."

"You're close to blasphemy. There's a reason we were sent to save him. He has potential, he may succeed here. And any rate, it's out of our hands."

"It doesn't have to be."

Castiel frowned. "And what would you suggest?"

"That we drag Dean Winchester out of here and then we blow this insignificant pinprick off the map."

"You know our true orders. Are you prepared to disobey?"

The only response he got was a cold stare.

Deep in the basement, Don worked his way through the complex incantation, pacing around the tied and gagged Tracy as he gathered the equipment he needed. A knife in one hand and an intricately engraved chalice in the other, he headed straight for the struggling teenager, raising the knife, ready to plunge it into her chest - and then the door slammed open. Three quick shots landed in his back, sending him crashing to the floor, motionless.

As Sam checked to make sure he was actually dead, Dean cut Tracy free. The blonde rubbed at her wrists furiously.

"Thank you, he was gonna kill me! Ugh, that sick son of a bitch. I mean, did you see what he was doing? Did you hear him?" Her tone changed slightly, going from disgusted fear to irritation and smugness. "How sloppy… his incantation was?"

Having looked away, the brothers turned back to her, realising that they'd made a catastrophic mistake. Tracy knelt down by Don's corpse, poking his arm.

"My brother… he always was a little dim." And before either of them had the chance to raise their guns again, she threw up a hand, shouting an incantation as the two of them flew backwards against the damp stone walls. "He was gonna make me the final sacrifice - his idea, of course - but now, that honor goes to him. Our master's return? The spellwork's a two man job you understand, so for six hundred years I had to deal with that pompous son of a bitch. Planning, preparing… oh, it was unbearable. The whole time I wanted to rip his face off."

Digging the knife into one of the bullet wounds on the man's back, she filled the chalice with his blood, smirking at the brothers as they winced in pain, slumped against the floor.

"And you get him with a gun. I kinda love that. You know, back in the day, this was the one day you kept your children inside. Well tonight you'll all see what Halloween really is."

And now, with everything she needed, she started the incantation that she'd been waiting six hundred years to conduct.

Realising the danger they were in, and how much worse it was about to get, Sam stretched over to Don's body and dipped his fingers into the widened gunshot wound, smearing the dead man's blood across his face. Dean stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

"What are you doing?"

"Just follow my lead."

Trusting that his little brother had some kind of vague reason for doing this, Dean let him wipe the blood over his own face too, the pair of them drawing away from the body as the incantation came to the end.

Black smoke poured upwards as the ground cracked with the force of the magic being used, seeping into all of Don's orifices - both natural and manmade. The seal had been broken. Samhain had risen. As the smoke dissipated, Samhain rose to his feet, Don's eyes now a pure bright white around pinpoint black pupils. He seemed to take a second to steady himself, and Tracy smiled up at the man lovingly. He got closer, and she leant up to kiss him.

"My love."

Samhain was still using Don's voice. "You've aged."

Tracy looked slightly hurt for a moment, but smiled again. "This face… I can't fool you."

"Your beauty is beyond time." He pressed his forehead to hers momentarily, before reaching out and snapping her neck roughly. "Whore."

Briefly scanning the room and deciding there was nobody and nothing else worth destroying, Samhain left, closing the door behind him. Dean waited a moment longer before asking his question.

"What the hell was that?"

"Halloween lore. People used to wear masks to hide from him, so I gave it a shot."

"You gave it a shot?!"

"Well it worked, didn't it?!"

At any other time of year, a six foot tall man stalking down the street with funny looking eyes and covered head to toe in blood would have resulted in several calls to the police before he'd even reached the end of the road. But as, of course, it was Halloween, everyone else was too preoccupied with their own costumes or with their children's candy stashes to really notice just how real the blood looked.

Luckily, this was also working well for Sam and Dean as they headed for the car, wiping the drying blood off their faces.

"Where the hell are we gonna find this mook?"

Sam shrugged. "Where would you go to raise other dark forces of the night?"

"The cemetery."

"Yeah."

As they started driving, he thought about how to bring the topic up in conversation. He knew Dean wouldn't like it, but it seemed silly not to consider it as an option in this scenario.

"So, this demon's pretty powerful."

"Yeah."

"Might take more than the usual weapons."

Noticing what he was hinting at, Dean took his eyes off the road for a moment to glare at him. "Sam, no, you're not using your psychic whatever. Don't even think about it. Ruby's knife is enough."

"Why?"

"Well because the angels said so for one–"

"I thought you said they were a bunch of fanatics."

"Well they happen to be right about this one."

"I don't know, Dean, it doesn't seem like they're right about much."

Groaning, Dean took the knife from his pocket and held the handle out to him. "Well then forget the angels, okay? You said so yourself, these powers, it's like playing with fire. Please."

Reluctantly, Sam took the knife, not uttering a word.

The rest of the short journey passed in silence, and they followed the direction of loud rap music as they entered the cemetery. In the centre was a large mausoleum, and it was clearly being used for a Halloween night piss up. Or at least, it had been. As they got out of the car the music stopped, and they could hear faint gasps and worried voices from within. Then, they heard the first scream. They had the right place. By the time they got down the stairs and reached the locked gate keeping the panicked teenagers inside, at least one person was already dead. The floor was covered in blood. Sam got to the gate first, and he turned back to look at Dean.

"Help them."

"Dude, you're not going off alone."

"Do it! Just get them out!"

Sam ran off after the demon. For a moment, Dean considered following him - but he couldn't leave the cluster of panicked kids behind with what was left of one of their friends.

"Stand back! Stand back!"

They moved back from the gate and he shot the lock out, kicking it open and standing back to let them flood back outside, to go back up to safety and get as far away as possible.

"Go on, come on, get out, move!"

Once they were all out, he turned his attention to the opening graves in the mausoleum. Zombies were crawling out, staggering slightly as they came back to life - and he didn't plan on letting them have that second life for very long.

"Bring it on, you stinky assholes."

The corridors of the mausoleum were narrow and dim, and at one point Sam had to crouch to get through an archway. But it didn't take him very long to find Samhain, facing a far wall. Sam kept his footsteps as silent as possible - which worked until he was about half way across the room, when Samhain turned around and threw a hand up, a familiar beam of white light aiming directly at his face. Not that that was going to be a problem, though. Sam just kept walking towards him.

"Yeah, that demon ray gun stuff? It doesn't work on me."

The demon's next tactic was the physical approach, and he launched himself at Sam, aiming a heavy uppercut at his face. He managed to duck, and the fight continued for what felt like forever, until the demon had pinned him against the wall by his neck.

Samhain had the upper hand, and Sam was entirely alone in fighting him.

Back in the main room of the mausoleum, Dean was holding his own rather well. He'd handled around a dozen zombies before something different appeared - then disappeared, and appeared again, before disappearing once more. Human forms popping in and out of existence were nothing new to him, and he sighed.

"Zombie ghost orgy huh? Well, that's it, I'm torching everybody."

Wrestling the knife from his pocket, Sam managed to cut Samhain slightly before the demon tossed it across the room, shortly before throwing him to the ground too. But that was exactly the opportunity that Sam needed. As the demon moved to charge at him, Sam held out his hand in a move strikingly similar to the one that had been made against him earlier. Samhain stopped in his tracks, unable to move any closer. Confusion crossed his face before his features contorted with pain - psychically, Sam was drawing the demon out of his host body. It was a horrific challenge, more difficult than any demon he'd exorcised before, and his head was pounding. He could dimly see Dean in the doorway, stopped dead by the sight of his little brother doing the one thing he'd promised not to do, but he couldn't stop now. He was so close to making this work. As blood dripped down his face, Samhain finally dropped to the floor, his demonic presence filtering back down through the ground as Don's remains grew cold against the stone.

The pounding in his head subsided slightly, but the look of sickened concern on his older brother's face would have a much longer lasting effect on him than the excessive use of his psychic abilities.

Dean looked scared. Scared of him, or scared for him? Sam just couldn't tell…

November the first came around, and Sam was alone in the motel room. Robotically, he shoved his clothes into his duffel back, focusing on the monotonous movement so that his mind wouldn't wander off in thought. The lack of thinking, however, was interrupted by a voice.

"Tomorrow." He jumped, startled, turning to see Uriel standing next to the table. "November 2nd, it's an anniversary for you."

"What are you doing here?"

"It's the day Azazel killed your mother, and 22 years later your girlfriend too. It must be difficult to bear, yet you so brazenly use the power he gave you. His profane blood, pumping through your veins."

"Excuse me?"

"You were told not to use your abilities."

Sam groaned. "And what was I supposed to do? That demon would have killed me, and my brother and everyone."

"You were told not to."

"If Samhain had gotten loose in this town –"

"You've been warned, twice now."

"You know? My brother was right about you, you are dicks."

Uriel took a step closer, sneering. "The only reason you're still alive, Sam Winchester, is because you've been useful. But the moment that ceases to be true, the second you become more trouble than you're worth, one word. One, and I will turn you to dust. As for your brother, tell him that maybe he should climb off that high horse of his. Ask Dean what he remembers from hell."

And he vanished, leaving Sam to think on this revelation.

"Let me guess you're here for the "I told you so"."

Dean hadn't needed to look to know that the angels were there next to him on the bench. He'd picked this place - the park nearby the motel they were staying at - so he could be on his own for a little while, watch the children and see the little lives that his and Sam's work had saved. He would have said good work, but… well, he wasn't quite so sure that it could be called good.

"No." Cas didn't look at Dean, knowing that he wouldn't get eye contact back.

"Well, good, cause I'm really not that interested."

"I am not here to judge you, Dean."

"Then why are you here?"

"Our orders –"

"Yeah, you know, I've had about enough of these orders of yours –"

"Our orders were not to stop the summoning of Samhain, they were to do whatever you told us to do."

This made him turn to look at Cas. On the angel's other side, there was a slightly guilty look on Joey's face.

"Your orders were to follow my orders?"

"It was a test, to see how you would perform under... battlefield conditions, you might say."

"It was a witch, not the Tet Offensive. You knew?" He directed the last point at Joey, who nodded.

She leant so that he could see her properly, see the look on her face. "I didn't agree with it. At all. But there was nothing I could do. Heaven keeps watch on angels very closely, and I've put more than a few toes out of line recently trying to help you guys out. If I get their attention too much… well, I'll be no use to you if they're trying to get me back in line. I didn't really have a choice." This was, of course, a blatant lie, and Castiel knew it just as well as she did. But now really wasn't the time to tell the whole truth. It was too complex, too dangerous…

He believed what she said - it did make sense, given what he'd seen of the other angels so far - and he looked back out at the children on the playground.

"So I, uh, failed your test, huh? I get it. But you know what? If you would have waved that magic time-traveling wand of yours and we had to do it all over again, I'd make the same call. 'Cause see, I don't know what's gonna happen when these seals are broken, hell I don't even know what's gonna happen tomorrow. But what I do know is, that this, here? These kids, the swings, the trees, all of it is still here because of my brother and me."

Cas shook his head. "You misunderstand me, Dean, I'm not like you think. I was praying that you would choose to save the town, just as much as Jophiel was."

"You were?"

"These people, they're all my father's creations. They're works of art, and yet, even though you stopped Samhain, the seal was broken and we are one step closer to hell on earth, for all creation. Now that's not an expression, Dean, it's literal. You of all people should appreciate what that means. Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?"

The look on the angel's face was one Dean hadn't seen before, and he nodded. "Yeah, okay.

"I'm not a… hammer as you say. I have questions, I have doubts. I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore, whether you passed or failed here. But in the coming months you will have more decisions to make. I don't envy the weight that's on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don't."

The two of them shared a look for a moment, and then Castiel vanished. Dean looked out at the kids again, aware that Joey was still there. They were quiet for a moment, before she spoke.

"Dean… it's a lot for an angel to question Heaven's authority, even in private. Angels who do question openly… well, Heaven closes the doors on them. I get away with a lot more than most, because I spend so much time down here and there's only so much attention they can pay to one of us at any one time. And they tend to monitor the lower ranks more; they usually trust those of a higher rank to follow the given instructions without even thinking of questioning it. As a species, the fundamental basis of angels is rules, order. It's incredibly rare for any of us to start deviating. Be… be understanding, with Castiel. I've been a bad influence on him, and he's starting to struggle with the way his soul is reckoning with things. Just…" She trailed off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence, and he patted her knee softly.

"Yeah, I get it. I know the feeling, not wanting to go against the orders of someone you respect…"

"Do you want me to stay for a bit?"

"Nah, I… I'd rather just be alone for a bit. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry." The angel stood, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. "Solitude can be beautiful, when you need it. I'll see you soon, Dean. Tell Sam I look forward to hanging out with you both properly, under better circumstances."

And then she was gone too, leaving Dean to watch the children play, deep in thought.

I love you all! See you again soon xx