#1500Ghouls

[whispersandwhiskerburn]

An All Hallows’ Haunting

Summary: Dean, Sam, and Reader take on a case featuring one of America’s oldest ghost legends: the Headless Horseman...who rides on Halloween. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 6,745....holy shit, how did that happen? Warnings: A few pieces of language, a bit of suspense...nothing really. Author’s Note: I tried to make this extremely canon-style in characterization, plot, everything. This is a late contribution to my dear friend @plaidstiel-wormstache‘s Halloween celebration (thanks for the prompt, patience, and proof-reading!). I actually met her last Halloween when she asked me to beta a The Nightmare Before Christmas x SPN fic , so when she hosted, I had to get a TNBC prompt for this fic: “She’s the only one who makes any sense in this insane asylum”. Look for it along with some familiar characters from Burton’s animated holiday classic. Feedback is always appreciated!

“Seriously, you guys don’t do anything for Halloween?”

You had found the Winchesters on a hunt back in January, and you and Dean had officially gotten together in April… this was your first fall with them and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. The younger one smiled wryly, “let’s just say it carries its own brand of nightmares.”

“Yeah, once you’ve dodged Samhain himself, the whole idea of celebrating the season kind of loses its shine…plus, you know, we’ve been kind of busy.”

You nodded, understanding. In the past few months you had been there as Dean darkened under the curse of the Mark and had helped the brothers patch it up after Sam had gone behind both of your backs to get it removed by Rowena. You understood why he had done it… and you couldn’t feel bad about it, no matter what happened with Amara.

You were thankful to have Dean back. You weren’t ashamed of that.

You tried to get them back to the lighter topics—a role you were used to filling with the Winchesters. “Come on! Costumes, candy, trick or treating, pumpkins… pie?” Dean chuckled, and you smiled, “fall has its plusses. Halloween’s only a few days away, and we haven’t made any plans!”

“Don’t get me wrong, Y/N, if you’re planning to dress up, I’m all in for that.” Dean quit wagging his eyebrows long enough to dodge the French fry his brother tossed at his head.

“Sorry you two—your dress up activities are going to have to be postponed. It looks like we might have a case.”

Dean sat up, and so did you, ready to be a bit more serious. Sam was scanning the computer screen in front of him.

“Charlie” Sam struggled with her name and all three of you flinched, “flagged this when she uploaded the men of letters files and a bunch of the hunter’s journals that we pulled out of Bobby’s storage—a reoccurring haunting. Dean, you remember the Morton house with the janitor guy who showed up every leap year?” Dean nodded, and you shrugged.

“Kinda like that. Except the pattern on this one is much more spaced out, which is probably why no other hunter has ever caught it. Apparently, every 24 years there’s a rash of beheadings on Halloween near a place called Tarrytown, New York, about a half hour north of Manhattan. The residents link it to a local legend and get this—the spirit of a headless horseman.” Sam scoffed the last words and Dean shot a quizzical look at you.

“You mean the dude with the pumpkin chasing the goofy looking guy in the cartoon?”

“You’re talking about the short story by… Irving, I think?” You thought back to your community college English class— “’The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’. You’re telling me it’s real?”

Sam nodded, closing his computer. “According to Bobby, which is good enough for me. Looks like the horseman’s due to ride this year, so I’ll see you in the garage in ten?”

You slid back your chair, standing up at the same time Dean did. As Sam stalked off down the hallway, you pulled Dean close for a quick kiss.

“I’m taking a rain check on that dress up challenge, Winchester.”  

He settled his hands at the nape of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair.  “Oh, really? Have you got a French maid costume lying around somewhere?”

You kissed him again, then leaned back as your hands slid down his back to land on his narrow hips.

“Maybe. But now that you’ve put the idea in my head, I’m not gonna rest until I see this ass,” you squeezed his cheeks, and he settled his hips closer into yours, “in cowboy chaps.”

He was already leaning in for another kiss when he processed what you said, and leaned back to laugh—one of those good belly deep laughs that crinkled the corners of his eyes and brought an involuntary smile to your face. With everything going on, it was good that you were still able to make him let loose like that.

“Now come on, Cowboy. Let’s go take care of this horseman.”

He gave you a good ol’ boy wink and drawled, “yes ma’am.”

Trailing the Impala through the northern part of the country on your motorcycle had been a visual treat. You’d always enjoyed a long ride, the music in your one earbud the modern kind that Dean hated, and you could never get enough of, and the fall colors in the trees were just incredibly gorgeous.

They’d stopped a little way past Chicago for the night, and despite the good food, Sam and Dean had been in an irritable mood. Dean hated traffic and Sam had been trying to do research on the case, and had found that separating the fact from the fiction when it came to this famous ghost was a bit of a headache.

“It’s like researching Bloody Mary all over again,” he grumbled as they set off in the car again the next morning. You were relieved to get back to the drive—the brothers were less likely to be whiny when they actually got to the job.

You were surprised when you saw Dean flash his blinker, signaling a turn when the sign you just passed said Tarrytown was straight ahead. When he slowed at the next stop sign you pulled up beside driver’s door as he lowered the window, putting one foot on the ground as your bike idled.

“Sam’s found a current address to a contact from Bobby’s journal—a guy named Jack Bones. He lives kinda off the beaten track, but since we’ve only got two days till Halloween, we figured we’d stop there, see if he could fill in any blanks.”

You nodded your agreement, and Dean pulled out on the road again with you following.

It wasn’t a full ten minutes later when you reached the end of a rough driveway and found a huge garden, overflowing with pumpkins, complete with a sign detailing prices. You smiled, looking around to find the rustic house and it’s wrap-a-round porch. You decided immediately that you liked it, and whomever had decorated the porch with fall mums.

You had parked closer than the boys and you were already leaning down to smell the bright flowers when you heard the door slam on the Impala.

“Hello, there. Are you here to buy a pumpkin from the Pumpkin King?”

You looked up to see the skinniest man you’d ever laid eyes on—his eyes were sunken in, and for a moment, he seemed more like a walking skeleton than a human being. Then he stepped out into the sunlight, and you could see his bald head and wide welcoming smile.

You returned his smile, “no, sorry.  I’m looking for a Jack Bones, not a Jack-o-lantern.”

You saw Dean and Sam out of the corner of your eye as they walked up behind you and you stood up.

“That’d be me—call me Jack. Doll?” He called back through the screen door into the house, “were we expecting company?”

“Not to my knowledge.” The feminine voice was followed by striking older lady with shoulder length auburn hair wearing a colorful sundress despite the chilly October air.

Sam took a step forward, smiling disarmingly. “Hi, my name is Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean, and this is Y/N. We heard your name through Bobby—”

“Singer. Yeah he mentioned you two boys as well.” The smile was gone from the old man’s face and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Where is he? I’ve been expecting him for days.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks and you saw a hint of pain flash across their faces. You took Dean’s hand on instinct, squeezing it in support. You saw Mrs. Bones walk closer behind her husband, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Jack, but Bobby died almost three years ago.” You kept your voice gentle, sad to give the news. You’d never met the man who had helped raise the Winchesters, but you knew he had been a great man.

Jack nodded, his smile tightening to a thin line. “I thought that might be the case. It sure is going to make this thing harder though.”

The silence then was thick and awkward until Mrs. Bones stepped in front of her husband, “I’m sorry for your loss. My name is Sally. Would you like to come in? I’ve got an apple pie cooling off—and I’ve always found that hard news and hard times are made lighter with good food.”

Jack seemed to shake off his melancholy and turned to look down at the woman beside him, smiling. “Thanks, Sally.”

He turned to face us, “I always listen to her--she’s the only one who makes any sense in this insane asylum of a town. You folks come on in and we’ll talk about what Bobby left you to do.”

Sam stepped up on the porch and Dean followed, your hand still folded inside his.

“Local tales differ on who the Hessian is—it gets tangled up with the Sleepy Hollow legend that made the town famous, but Irving didn’t write that story until 1819, after the Horseman had already ridden once twenty years before that.

“The real story gets mixed up with that quite a lot.”

Jack was leaned back, having swallowed his slice of pie in about four bites, and seemed ready to tell a story. Dean had scored two slices with a compliment to Sally’s cooking, and she looked on him fondly as he obviously relished every bite. You and Sam were more interested in what Jack had to say than the pie, but you were both taking small bites to be polite.

“I noticed—trying to separate fact from fiction online was difficult. If it hadn’t been for Bobby’s notes, I wouldn’t have believed there was really anything supernatural here.”

Sally laughed at that, “oh, there’s definitely something supernatural here. The Hessian’s ghost gets hyped up for the tourists, but we grew up here—we know the truth. The Hessian is the boogeyman that parents frighten their kids with…until the 24-year mark get close, then the newest generation gets told the truth.”

You put your fork down, sliding what was left of your pie towards Dean. “That was delicious, Sally, thank you. Can you two tell us what you actually know for sure about this ghost?” Sally nodded, then gestured to Jack to do the talking.

“Well, what is generally known by everyone who grows up here and who is willing to believe is fairly straightforward. The horseman, we call him the Hessian, was 24 years old when he was executed by beheading. The man was a murdering coward in life: he killed his superior officer to advance in the ranks of the British army, but when the battles started to get heavy with the Continental Army, he deserted his men. Most of his battalion died. He was captured, tried, and found guilty before being executed on Halloween in 1775.

“Except he comes back every 24 years—this will be his tenth visit. It always starts on the full moon in October when the Hessian rides away from where the battle was fought and into the woods. He rides again every night after that, retracing his desertion. And on October 31st, at least one person in the surrounding area loses his head, quite literally. Then the Hessian vanishes for another 24 years.”

Jack gathered up the empty pie plates after Dean scraped the last of yours clean. He moved to the sink to wash them off and Sally picked up the narrative with the smoothness of a couple who has been together for a long time.

“It’s not the full story, but it’s enough detail to convince most kids to stay out of the way of the Hessian. Not that it does much good. The victims of the horseman are found along his ride, but most of them go missing from their homes, and sometimes they are tourists.”

Dean spoke up for the first time since the pie appeared: “there’s got to be something connecting them.”

Jack turned around, wiping his hands on a towel as he smiled, “yeah, Bobby said the same thing. I didn’t believe in the Hessian at all when I was a kid, but that ended when I saw him myself.”

“Well, aren’t you Mr. Unlucky.”

Sally muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Mr. Stubborn maybe.”

Jack came back to his chair, either not hearing or not acknowledging his wife’s comment. “I’ve been around for three visits from the Hessian so far. The first time, I was barely a toddler, so that one probably shouldn’t count…but growing up hearing the stories, I always assumed they were complete crap. So, when the next visit was due when I was 26, I decided to find out the truth for myself.”

“And I told you not to. ‘It’s a mistake, Jack!’ I believe were my exact words.” Sally’s voice was scolding, and you couldn’t help smiling at Dean. They were honestly shaping up to be relationship goals.

Jack still pretended not to hear her and soldiered on.

“That year, ’67—the same year as that car of yours, I think—the full moon was early in the month, more than ten days before Halloween. After hearing so much about it my whole life, and then watching the whole town close up early superstitiously for six days in a row and the bars filled with gossip and whispers, I went out to see for myself what was going on.”

He went silent again and his eyes took on that look that older people always have when they look back on the past.

“We’ll leave it at the fact that I saw him that night. If you three are going after the Hessian, you’ll see him for yourself, and you’ll understand why I don’t try to describe him now.

“In 1991, the town prepared to weather the Hessian’s rides and kills again the best way they knew how—spread the truth to the next generation, close up the town early, laugh it off to the tourists… the usual.” Jack shook his head, his face grim.

“Three people died that year. I knew the Hessian was real, that he was coming, and I did nothing, we all did nothing. And three people died. When Bobby Singer showed up a few days into November and started asking around, it didn’t take him long to find me.

“He sat where you are right now,” he gestured to Dean’s chair, “and the two of us talked about the Hessian and ghosts and the supernatural until he convinced me that the victims had to have something in common.

“So, we started digging. And we didn’t stop until we figured it out. Bobby promised he’d be back this year, or he’d send you boys to finish the job. The horseman’s been riding the past two nights, and the night after next, anyone who has ever ducked a responsibility that resulted in the death of someone else is going to end up as headless as the Hessian.”

You and Sam looked at each other wide-eyed. You hoped you heard wrong, “you mean the horseman goes after cowards?”

Jack made a face like he didn’t know how to word something. Sally stepped into the silence, “not really. The horseman’s victims all have something in common—they had willingly chosen to do something, then failed, and their failure resulted in at least one death. One woman who was beheaded last time was a foster mom and the child accidently drowned when she wasn’t paying attention, another was a safety inspector who signed off on a building that was structurally unsound and collapsed on three people a year later.

“We think he’s not just reliving his failure when he rides away from the battle every night after the full moon. We think he’s also administering the same judgment he received against anyone who committed his crime, since so many died because he abandoned his post.”

The tenseness of Dean’s shoulders wasn’t something you’d seen since the Darkness had been released…which was probably part of the problem. His mind was at the same place yours and Sam’s had gone—Dean, having lost the Mark and released the Darkness on the world, was exactly the type of victim the horseman would go after.

“Are you three okay?” Jack was quick.

Dean stood up from his chair, nodding to Jack and Sally, “thanks for the pie and the help.”

Then he turned and walked out. You shot another look at Sam, gesturing to the older couple, hoping he would come up with some kind of explanation, then you followed Dean outside.

He was leaning against Baby, his eyes on the trees across the road, but much further away.

“Dean, you okay?”

Dean’s eyes didn’t even attempt to meet yours. “Oh, I’m awesome. It’s just been a long two days on the road, and apparently, we’ve got to find a way to kill a ghost when we don’t have a body to salt and burn. And, oh yeah, my neck’s on the chopping block, or Sam’s might be, depending on who this horseman decides to blame for Amara.”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, waiting for him to look at you. “Even if that’s all true, we’ve faced lots worse and come out on top. We’ll get through this too.”

You heard the door shut and Sam was walking out to you. Dean shifted slightly, and you backed up, giving him his space.

“I made our goodbyes and got directions to the place where the horseman rides. I also got Jack’s number in case we run into any trouble, or so we can tell him when the job’s done.”

Dean nodded, opening the car door and sliding in. “Let’s go find a hotel and make some kind of plan then.”

He slammed the door shut in a way that telegraphed that his head was still up his ass, so you walked towards your bike. You shrugged at Sam’s raised eyebrow, knowing he’d probably get an earful on the way into town.

As much as you loved the man, sometimes Dean spent too much time and effort dwelling on guilt and things he couldn’t control.

It had been a tense night. It had started as a somewhat reasonable discussion of possible solutions and past cases—everything from a woman in white, to a racist truck, to apparently even a ghost ship that hunted down people who killed family members… the Winchesters really did have quite a resume on spooks.

Soon it had devolved into sullen silences as Dean’s mood continued to worsen as he dwelled on the Amara situation and the guilt he and Sam shared for releasing her. You felt a part of the guilt, but not as much as the boys—it always seemed to you like, ever since they saved the world the first time, they could never get that weight of responsibility off their shoulders.

You had a different outlook. You did what you could, while you could, and let the rest take care of itself.

In the end, it was a grim group that headed out after sunset. According to Jack’s information, we could count on the Hessian to ride tonight, and he only ever appeared along the same path, but not always at the same spots along that path—apparently, he would vanish and reappear as he went.

Sam had gotten a map, and the plan was for the three of you to spread out along the line Sally had drawn, since the ghost wasn’t attacking anyone tonight or tomorrow, and try to spot him. You’d meet up after midnight when the ride was over and compare notes, and, hopefully, figure out a way to gank the bastard tomorrow night.

On the television, Janice Huff had predicted 56° F temperatures tonight, so you had dressed accordingly as the boys suited up in their flannels. Dean was staying with Baby, you took your bike, and Sam was dropped off in between the two of you. He was the fastest runner of the three of you, so it was the most logical way to go, but you could tell it only worsened Dean’s mood.

Something else for the man to worry over.

You were brooding over Dean—his weird connection with Amara, the guilt and pain inside him, his stubbornness—when you realized that a mist had crept over the ground.

That had not been a part of Huff’s weather forecast.

You gripped your salt-shotgun tightly in one hand and opened the video group call you’d set up between you and Winchesters with the other.

“Guys, you seeing this?”

Static.

“Dean? Sam?”

Nothing.

Awesome.

You tucked the phone away and straddled your bike. The mist was getting thicker and the temperature seemed to have dropped at least five degrees in the last few minutes.

You started the motorcycle, and instead of reflecting the light from your headlamp, the mist seemed unaffected by the bright light, but the darkness above the mist was pierced, letting you see nearly 20 yards away—just in time.

He was taller than you expected.

The horse was more shadow and mist than real, but the horseman on his back was much more substantial… or as substantial as a spirit ever seemed to be.

The shoulders seemed far too broad without a neck or head on top. His uniform was mostly navy blue, but covered in mud and scratches. The sound of hooves was thundering, drowning out the growl of the bike between your legs and the pounding of your pulse in your ears.

You raised your shotgun to your shoulder, the hair standing up on your neck as he drew closer seeming to aim straight at you, even though you knew you were several yards to the side of his path. You calmed yourself with the knowledge that the Hessian was only going to ride straight by. He was going to keep going. He was not going to attack you. He was—

He was right on top of you.

And he knew you were there.

It was an unnerving sensation—he had no eyes, no reaction, he didn’t once break stride, but he was aware of you. And his awareness was cold, cunning, and powerful.

You pulled the trigger without any conscious decision to do so.

The shot seemed deafeningly loud to you, as if everything else in the world had been muted. Your aim was dead on, and the ghost vanished immediately following your shot, leaving you alone on your bike.

Alone except for the lingering malevolent feeling of being watched and the slowly dissipating mist.

It took a lot to shake you up, but you were officially dreading this hunt. Despite your attempts to make light of your encounter with the Hessian, the boys, who hadn’t seen him last night, had picked up on the fact that something was off.

It might have had something to do with the new screaming nightmare you had added to your collection. It was part of the job, but, somehow, this hunt was different.

Sam was trying to be logical and supportive—asking details, treating you like a witness or a victim on a case in an attempt to gather information and help you get past it.

Dean was playing the part of angry-protective lover.

“If he’s intelligent, and capable of deviating from his pattern, that might be a good thing. It means we can distract him from his pattern, agitate him. We’ll get him to chase us across running water or onto hallowed ground���either one should be the same as salting and burning the bones.”

“Good. This son-of-a-bitch has got to go. But no more splitting up.” Dean had nearly had a heart-attack after hearing your shot last night and not being able to get a call through to you.

You were glad he had gotten over his brooding spell, but this suffocating over-protectiveness wasn’t really an improvement.

“We’ll get the job done, Dean, whatever it takes. I definitely got the feeling he’ll remember me after last night, and we all know that you two will make tempting targets for him considering his preferred victims. I agree that drawing him in shouldn’t be too difficult.” You fought back an internal shudder at the thought of being in that presence again, then scolded yourself internally.

You’d faced so much worse than this ghost.

You realized that you had been pacing the small area between the beds and the door in this crappy motel when you saw the worried glance the brothers traded.

“Guys, I promise, I’m fine. He didn’t touch me. I’m just…antsy.”

“Maybe you should stay behind, Y/N—”

“Dean—” Sam tried to warn his brother off… rather pointlessly. Dean was nothing if not stubbornly protective.

“If this thing has singled you out, maybe it’s not such a good idea.”

You stopped your pacing with your back towards Dean, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as you focused on the thought, he means well, he means well, he means well.

“And when you thought you or Sam might be the natural target? Did you think about tucking tail and running? Were you willing to take the coward’s way out and risk other people’s lives because of a possibility that you might be in danger? Be like the Hessian, you mean?”

You turned around to see him shifting uncomfortably on the bed and avoiding eye contact with you, because he knew that he would never have backed down from a hunt for that reason. Sam was pointedly looking at his computer and pretending he couldn’t feel the tension in the room.

Tonight was the last night the Hessian would ride without killing someone, at least traditionally. You had a feeling that your attack on him last night might have changed the status quo, but you didn’t have time to cajole Dean with reason.

Sometimes, the man needed to just be told what was what.

“I was on the job before we ever met, Dean. We all know the risks.” You gentled your voice, feeling guilty; you knew his reaction was instinctual and not intentionally insulting, “besides, we know the Hessian isn’t actually limited to his path—his victims get taken from their homes and hotels and left along the way. Staying away wouldn’t keep me any safer, and it certainly wouldn’t help gank this bastard.”

You went and sat next to him, and he finally made eye contact with you.

“So, let’s work together and figure out why he felt so much stronger than any other ghost I’ve ever tangled with. Sam? Any ideas on that?” You turned to face the younger Winchester as you threaded your fingers with Dean’s squeezing in confirmation that the two of you were okay.

He squeezed back.

“Well, there’s his age. Very few ghosts we’ve ever met have been haunting for 240 years. Then there’s the fact that he only seems to manifest for a week or two every ten years, which means he’s not really struggling with the pull of the veil and the mortal world the way most vengeful spirits do, so that might explain why he still seems methodical and not…” Sam trailed off, trying to think of a way to describe the average vengeful spirt you hunted.

“A rabid dog? On ghostly steroids?” Dean offered, and the three of you chucked, the tension finally easing a bit in the room.

Sam nodded, “exactly.”

You thought it out a bit, “and then there’s the fact that he seems to be linked with Halloween. If the legends are right, he was killed on the day, which is all kinds of supernaturally significant: crossing into the spirit world on the night when spirits have the easiest time crossing into the mortal world? And the full moon seems to have a role in this haunting and lore from all over the world links the lunar cycle with supernatural events. It’s no wonder he seems so much more than most ghosts.”

Dean squeezed your hand again, and you realized some of your inner dread had seeped into your voice while you spoke.

You forced yourself to sound more gung ho as you pulled your hand loose and clapped them together, “alright then! Let’s find us some old school holy ground or special running water to get rid of this thing once and for all.”

Dean studied you for a moment, and you knew he could see right through your false bravado. He let it go though, pulling out your computer bags from beside the bed so that you could join Sam in researching.

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.”

It had taken a few hours, but you had found a suitable plot of holy land: the site of a colonial church. Dean had taken a certain amount of sadistic pleasure in the idea of forcing a redcoat onto that land to kill him, which you had laughed at, telling him that the ghost’s uniform had actually been blue.

It had been the last moment of frivolity of the evening as you headed out to set up the trap.

Dean had wanted to have Sam on your bike and the two of you in Baby for the taunt and chase scene. You had told him that was stupid, and you weren’t letting Moose ride your girl. You had both backed off when Sam pointed out that the best method would be to keep everyone in one place, since the Hessian might have the ability to separate individuals anyway.

No need to make it easier on him.

You took the backseat since Sam had such a hard time fitting back there without laying out like he was going to take a nap. You had decided to start off where you had seen the horseman last night, and you waited with the car off, all of your eyes peeled for any sight of the ghost or of the strange mist that had preceded him before.

It didn’t take long for the anticipation to burn away to the boredom of any other stakeout.

“Here’s what I don’t get. Why did he go to you in the first place?”

Sam seemed almost disappointed, though whether that was a weird type of jealousy for a missed opportunity or just that he was stumped over a thought he’d apparently been chewing on for a while, it wasn’t clear.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dean turned to look at you, confused at your tone.

You kept your eyes out the window, even though the dark country view and the deserted lane wasn’t what you were really seeing.

“It’s another part of the job. We all accept responsibility when we take on a case. We promise ourselves that we’ll save everyone. We promise we’ll keep our loved ones safe.

“But we’re human. We hesitate. We make mistakes. And in this life, that means people die. It’s always been that way.”

You turned to look at Dean, hoping he would really listen to you. He needed to hear this even more than you needed to say it.

“So, when we lose people—family, like your parents, like Bobby; friends, like Kevin and Charlie, strangers like the ones that draw us to the cases we take on… we feel guilty about it. Even though we do all we can, we still feel like it’s all our fault, like we’ve failed in our responsibilities and someone else paid the price.

“And as long as we’re hunters, it will be that way, until we pay the price ourselves.”

There was a moment of silence in the car, then you continued in a low voice full of certainty. You understood your role in the world, and you understood this ghost.

“That’s why he’ll come after us. Not Amara or the Mark…it’s because we spend our lives taking on impossible fights, and we don’t back down even when we lose.” You looked back out the window, noting what might be the first wisps of mist. 

“This guy ran before the fight and died because of it. Even if we weren’t actively hunting him, he’d probably be coming after us because we’re everything he should have been and didn’t have the strength to be.”

A silence descended in the car again that lasted much longer than seemed necessary.

“Damn, Y/N. Deep much?”

You shot a smile at Dean, then pointed towards the thickening mist creeping over the ground. “Looks like we’re about to get this party started, so the philosophical discussions are going to have to be put on hold, boys.”

A moment later the sound of hooves began to vibrate the frame of the vehicle and the mist parted enough to see the insubstantial shadow horse and the much more intimidating headless rider cantering towards them.

“Go, Dean, now!”

Dean cranked up the Impala and hit the gas, shooting down the road. Despite the growl of the 550 horses under Baby’s hood, the supernatural soldier still seemed to be gaining.

“Dean, he’s gaining, go!”

“We’re almost at the church site, how far off is he?”

“50 yards…45 yards… C’mon Dean… 30 yards… 20…”

Dean’s wheels squealed as he turned almost 180° to stare back at the Hessian. The three of you piled out of the car quickly, Sam passing out the salt guns just in case.

Your heart was hammering, watching the horseman come barreling towards you and feeling that awful intent bearing down on you, calling you.

“C’mon, you son of a bitch, c’mon…”

Dean’s mutter grounded you, kept you from panicking as your pulse matched the pounding of the ghostly hooves—and when the sound cut off, so did your heart.

He was gone.

Barely five yards from the boundary line, the Hessian vanished from the lane.

But you could still feel the eyes, the malevolent power in the air, mixing with the mist and raising every hair on your skin.

“Where is he? Can you guys see him?” Sam and Dean didn’t respond, and you looked around frantically.

You were alone.

You pulled your salt-shotgun up to your shoulder and fought back the fear.

“Dean! Where are you?!”

The mostly full moon cut through the ghostly mist as if it wasn’t there and you turned and twisted, wishing you had your back to something, wishing the Winchesters were here.

Then you saw him, looming out of the mist in front of you.

The Hessian, unhorsed, beheaded, and wielding a one-handed sword and standing stock still. It was impossible to say that he was looking at you since he had no eyes, but every muscle and instinct in your body tensed for the fight you could practically taste in the air around you.

You braced and fired, pumped the gun to reload and fired again, all in seconds, sinking two rounds of rock salt center mass in the spirit in front of you.

“Y/N!” Dean was coming.

The Hessian vanished, but the presence was still there. But now, so was Dean, with Sam right behind.

“Are you okay? He snatched you somehow. The church grounds are about 10 yards that way.”

“He’s here somewhere. I got him with rock salt, but he’s not gone. I can tell.”

“There!” Sam pointed at the stalking figure of the headless man and all three of you aimed, but only Sam and Dean got a shot off this time. The ghost vanished, but the anger in the air seemed to increase, the mist having risen from ankle to waist high.

“Guys, we have to get him closer to the border line, force him over somehow.” You started backing towards the direction they came from and you fell into a familiar formation, you leading the way, Sam watching the retreat and Dean between the two of you, alternating from side to side to cover as many angles as possible.

“He was supposed to chase us over the line. How the hell do we get him across now?”

You could see the car ahead and knew you were close to the boundary line, but Dean had pointed out the main problem now.

“I’ve got an idea. Can you two buy me a few minutes? Keep him distracted.” Sam passed you, heading for the Impala while you and Dean went back to back to narrow the angles.

“C’mon you British asshat! Aren’t you sick of running away like a little bitch?”

You loved the man, but Dean was never good with subtlety.

The Hessian formed right in front of him, sword swinging at neck height for the decapitating blow. “Y/N, duck!” You dropped and rolled, coming up on one knee with your gun up. Dean was blocking the sword strokes with his shotgun, but each hit drove him back a step, the power of each swing enough that Dean was quickly losing ground, the sound of metal on metal clanging through the air.

You couldn’t get a clear shot off, so you got up and ran closer, not knowing what you were going to do, but knowing you had to do something.

“Y/N, take this!”

Sam was there, knocking your gun away and shoving something cold, heavy, and metallic into your hands.

“Clothesline him!” He pointed to one side of Dean who, you now realized, was deliberately losing ground to draw the Hessian closer to the border line.

You ran, gripping the metal in your hands tightly as it dragged then went taunt.

“Dean, hit the ground!” Sam’s voice was loud and just in time to avoid hitting Dean with the chain that you realized was stretched between you and Sam. Dean dropped, and though you expected the chain to go through and dissipate the ghost, instead it hit him square in the back, hard enough that you and Sam both swung closer towards him, your momentum dragging him forward.

The chain wrapped around the horseman, dragging him forward the last few feet and across the border onto what used to be church property in his time, and what was still considered hallowed ground.

The chain grew hot in your hands as the Hessian shook and burned, the air growing sharp as the cold intelligent hate you had felt since his appearance crystallized into a mind-piercing screech of pain.

He flickered, flickered, and vanished.

The chain fell to the ground, the mist vanished, and, most telling of all, the malevolent feeling that had been present for every moment of the Horseman’s presence was gone completely.

You flexed your hands, slightly burned and sore from gripping the chain, as you walked closer to Sam and Dean just a foot away from where the Hessian disappeared.

“You guys okay?”

Dean was standing up, brushing dirt off his knees and his now very scarred gun. He nodded briefly, but couldn’t seem to find words. Sam shook his hands, ran them through his hair then shrugged, “I’m fine. You?”

You nodded then kicked at the heavy chain laying on the ground, “what is so special about this thing?”

Dean leaned over and picked it up. “It was Bobby’s. We used it before on a ghost—a buruburu, actually.”

He seemed preoccupied with his thoughts as he hauled it back to the trunk, so you turned to Sam for further explanation.

“It’s an iron chain etched with spell work. When he didn’t follow the plan, I had to think fast.” Sam shrugged, like it had been no big deal to make that leap. As much as you could admire the looks of them, sometimes, you were amazed by the brains alone inside these Winchesters.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad you did. Anyway, you’d better call Jack, let him know that Tarrytown’s Hessian is gone for good.” Sam nodded, taking his phone out as you walked over to Dean.

He had just finished putting away his gun and the chain, but when he heard you, he turned and pulled you into his arms. You felt the shudder of relief go through him and relaxed a bit yourself now that it was over.

It had been a close one.

You stood up on your tiptoes and found his mouth with yours, pressing a sweet slow kiss to his full lips. Just as it was starting to heat up, you leaned back and gave him your coyest smile.

“And as for you, Monsieur Cowboy,” you said in your best approximation of a French accent, “I believe we have some Halloween plans back at the bunker.”

Dean’s smile was predatory as he pulled you into another kiss, “oui, m’dame.”

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#1500ghouls #HalloweenStories #spn fic #dean x reader #canon style #sfw #headless horseman #haunting #halloween fic #so long #it's been forever since I posted #feedback would be great!

[thecuriouscrusader]

Cas Says A Bad Word

Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 739

Prompts: "Suck a fuck." "How does one suck a fuck?" -  Donnie Darko + Wraith 

Tags: Gen, Canon Verse, Halloween, Crack, Cas Being Cas

Summary: Sam and Dean think Castiel needs to change his tact a little while they’re out hunting a Wraith on Halloween.

A/N: Written for @plaidstiel-wormstache‘s Halloween Stories challenge. Life got in the way and I felt so guilty about not posting on time that I had to write something anyway :’( Obviously, feel free ignore this. Not Beta’d.

Hunting on Halloween was the worst. Sometimes it was difficult to tell the difference between an actual monster and a human in a well-constructed costume. 

On this particular Halloween Castiel and the Winchesters were hunting for a Wraith that had been wreaking havoc in a lower class part of town where there was little questioning if people suddenly went missing. Wraiths were even trickier because they could be disguised as a human or flaunting off their true form given the excuse to blend in. The hunters were on very high alert. 

"This is hopeless" Dean groaned; they had been walking around the same small area for hours and he was starting to memorise the cracks in the sidewalk. "Let's just steal some candy off peoples' porches and go home." 

"We can't" Sam insisted. "Or else more people will be killed." 

"We don't even know if the Wraith is still here" Dean pointed out.

Castiel sniffed the air. "There is plenty of anxiety and depression around here to feed a Wraith...or perhaps that's just the two of you." The Angel squinted thoughtfully. 

"Thanks, man" Dean replied with a sarcastic smile. 

"I didn't do anything, but you're welcome." 

"I'm still not seeing anything" Sam sighed. He was carrying around a small mirror that would reveal the Wraith's true form if it was hiding. 

"Perhaps we should try a different approach" Castiel said. "Keeping our distance evidently isn't working." 

The Angel spotted a group of teenagers hiding in an alleyway as they passed around a bottle of vodka. He started to head towards them. 

Sam and Dean shared a confused look.

"What is he doing?" Dean asked.

"I don't know" Sam replied. "Should we follow him?" 

"Yeah, otherwise they're gonna give him a wedgie and beat him up at school tomorrow" Dean jibed. 

"Hey, Assbutt" Castiel said sternly as he grabbed one of the boys and turned him around. 

"Whoa, dude" the teen frowned; he was clearly drunk. "You picked a lawyer for your costume? Lame." 

"What about you two?" One of the other boys asked as he pointed at Sam and Dean. "Who are you supposed to be dressed as?" 

"Uh...you heard of the Supernatural books?" Dean asked. 

"No." 

"Yeah, they're not that great" Dean murmured. 

"And what exactly are you supposed to be?" Castiel asked. "A Wraith?" 

"What the hell is a Wraith?" the teen replied. "We're clearly Zombies, dude." 

Castiel squinted and leaned in even closer to the teen as he looked his face up and down. 

"Alright" the Angel conceded. "My apologises." He turned and walked away. 

Dean and Sam followed after him. 

"Cas, we may need to rethink this new approach" Sam said gently. "Creeping up on people and grabbing them isn't really the way to go." 

"Yeah, and you need to come up with some way better insults than just calling someone an Assbutt" Dean added. 

"Not the real issue here, Dean" Sam deadpanned. 

"You think that I should be more assertive?" Castiel asked Dean. 

"Verbally, yes. Physically, no. Sam's right; you're gonna get yourself in trouble grabbing people like that." 

A loud scream echoed from a nearby alley. 

"We should probably check that out" Sam said. 

The hunters ran to the alley and found a woman being backed against the wall. Her attacker had a huge spike sticking out of his wrist. 

Castiel teleported behind the Wraith and grabbed it. He slammed it forcefully against the opposing wall. Sam went over to the woman and made sure she was physically okay before telling her to run.

"Release me!" the wraith screeched as it showed its true form. 

"No" Castiel replied sternly. "Suck a fuck." 

Dean and Sam shared an equally surprised and confused look. 

Castiel grabbed the wraith's spike and snapped it in half. The wraith screamed in agony, but that stopped as soon as Castiel drove his silver Angel blade into its heart.

"Suck a fuck?" Dean asked amusedly. "Tell me, Cas, how does one suck a fuck?"

"I don't know" Castiel murmured. "You said that I had to better my insults." 

"Yeah, but not by saying something that sounds like slang for a blow job!" Dean argued. Castiel frowned and opened his mouth. "I swear, if you ask me what a blow job is..." Dean said with warning. 

Castiel shut his mouth.

"I think we prefer Assbutt" Sam said; he just wanted the conversation to end.

"I'll keep working on it" Castiel promised. 

#HalloweenStories #1500Ghouls #team free will #team free will fanfiction #supernatural #spn writing challenge #my stuff #curious writes

[sillesworldofwriting]

Not All Ghosts Are Evil

Title: Not All Ghosts Are Evil

AO3

Words: 1459

Challenge: Halloween & 1500 Challenge

Quote: “What’s it like to die?“ “Like… being born, only backwards. I remember, I didn’t go where I was supposed to go. I just stayed behind, so my ____ wouldn’t be lonely.” - Casper

Monster: Familiar

Pairing: None

Warnings: Angst, character death, talking about dying, young!Sam

Summary: Sam gets lost after a fight with his father.

Author’s Note: This is my entry for @plaidstiel-wormstache challenge! I had fun writing it even though it did go into another direction than I originally wanted. But that’s writing for you XD. Still searching for a Beta Reader!

Sam shivered from the cold, his breath forming small fog patches above his head. The forest was dark. He couldn’t even see the stars that should have appeared by now.

“Dean.” he whimpered as he burrowed deeper into his too big sweater. He just hoped his brother would find him soon.

“Stupid. Stupid,” he said to himself. It was his own fault that he was in his situation. Why did he think running away would be such a good idea. He just argued with his dad over nothing. Again. And now he was lost in this forest because of his own stupidity.

Tears began to form in his eyes but he tried not to let them fall. He wasn’t a baby after all. Men didn’t cry because they are scared or cold. He needed to grow up just like dad always said.

Minutes went by but it felt like hours for Sam. He just wanted to get back to the motel and have Dean make him a hot chocolate to get him warm again like his brothers always did when they were stuck in the cold for too long.

The thought of his brother made him tear up again. He just wanted his brother to make it better. Dean always made everything better.

“I want to go home.” he cried, finally letting the tears fall. It was all too much for the ten-year-old. Leaning against one of the trees he let himself slide down against it and buried his face in his knees.

Suddenly Sam heard a rustling in one of the bushes next to him. His head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Who’s there?” he asked loudly without a response. The rustling continued and he pressed himself tighter against the tree, trying to make himself look smaller. “Please don’t be a werewolf,” he whispered to himself as he looked at the direction of the bush.

The rustling stopped as suddenly as it started. A few seconds later something tiny stepped out from under the bush. His eyes glowed in the moonlight that began to shine over the forest.

Sam breathed a sigh of relieve. “It’s just a cat.” he murmured and unfolded himself a bit. The cat looked at him and slowly came closer. He stretched out his hand when it was within reach.

The cat hesitated and sniffed at his outstretched fingers, but after a few seconds, it butted his head against his hand. Sam smiled and scratched the cat behind the ears.

“Hello there,” he spoke softly. “You’re beautiful, aren’t you.”

The cat began to purr and draped itself over his legs that Sam automatically stretched out. The sounds the animal made had a calming effect on him which he was thankful for. He wasn’t scared anymore even though he still wished that Dean was with him.

“Pity you can’t tell me your name,” he said, never once stopping his petting.

“Her name is Luna.” responded a voice above him. He yelped in surprise and lifted his head. His eyes were wide and terrified as he saw a figure hovering over him, his breath becoming faster.

The figure chuckled and floated down so it could sit beside him. “Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you,” it said in a comforting tone.

“But… but you’re ghost.” he sputtered eyes still wide.

“I am. But that doesn’t mean that I want to harm you, little one.” the ghost explained with a smile on its face. “What’s your name?”

“S...Sam.” he stuttered still hesitant to believe the words of a spirit.

“Nice to meet you, Sam. I’m Melissa.”

He didn’t say anything else. Luna butted her head against his hand in a demand to be patted again.

“She likes you.” smiled the ghost. “She doesn’t want to be patted by very many people. You must be special.”

Sam looked at her, shrugging but started to stroke Luna again. Now content the cat laid on his legs again and began to purr. He relaxed again. The purr worked like magic.

“It’s one of her special gifts,” explained Melissa as she watched them. “The ability to calm people with her purr.”

“It’s nice,” said Sam and smiled a bit. Melissa continued to watch him without saying anything further for a while.

“Why are you in this forest Sam?” she asked suddenly and he jumped.

“I ran away.” he sighed. “I had a fight with my dad and thought it was a good idea. But now I’m lost. I can’t find my way home.”

“Poor boy. But I’m here now. I will keep you company while we wait for someone to find you.”

“You’d do that? Why?”

“It’s kind of my job.”

“Your job?”

“Yes. When I died in these woods a few years ago I became a spirit of the forest. My task is to make sure that lost people like you get back home safely. I protect them from any threat and keep them company till they are found.”

“I never heard of something like that.”

“It’s something special these woods do.” Melissa chuckled. “I wouldn’t have thought that I was the right candidate for this task but the forest insistent and wouldn’t let me leave.”

“Isn’t that kind of cruel?” asked Sam with a pained expression. “They denied you your freedom.”

Melissa shook her head. “They didn’t deny it. Just delayed it I guess. I will get my freedom just not right now. Not until after Luna can go with me. I stayed for her in the first place after all.”

Sam nodded, turning his face to Luna again. No one said a word for a while. To Melissa, it seemed that Sam was absorbed in his thoughts and she didn’t want to disturb him. It was enough to keep him company. If he wanted to share his thoughts with her, he would.

“Can I asked you something?” the child asked suddenly and gazed at her.

“Sure. You can ask me anything,” she responded.

“What’s it’s like to die?”

“Like… being born, only backwards. I remember, I didn’t go where I was supposed to go. I just stayed behind, so my familiar wouldn’t be lonely.” she explained and pointed at Luna. “And since I already stayed behind the forest thought it would be best to give me a task to do. So I would stay sane.”

“So you would have turned into a vengeful spirit? Just like all the other souls that stay behind?”

“You have quite the knowledge, little one. But yes, that would have happened to me too.”

Sam looked at her thoughtful. “When will you be free?”

Melissa smiled kindly. “When it’s Luna’s time. But that will still take a few years. Don’t worry. I’m not staying here forever.”

“I’m glad. Wouldn’t want to be stuck here. It would get kind of lonely, wouldn’t it? Even if you have Luna at your side.”

“She is company enough. And I’ve got the occasional change from the ones that get lost in the forest. So it’s not all bad. But let’s stop talking about me. Tell me about yourself! What do you like to do in your free time?”

Sam’s face lit up and Melissa chuckled to herself. It was good to see him happy and animated since she had the feeling that his life was not an easy one.

“I like school.” Sam began and told her all about the subjects he liked and his favorite books. His brother Dean was mentioned often too. She could tell that he loved his big brother very much.

Sam talked so much that he didn’t notice how the time ticked away and never once stopping since Melissa asked all the right questions.

“Sam!” he suddenly hearts in the distance. “Sammy!”

“That’s Dean!” Sam nearly yelled, his head turning in the directions of the voice. “That’s my brother. I knew he would come!”

Melissa grinned at him. “Then go on. He must be so worried by now. You were here for a long time.”

The little boy nodded and stood up, Luna still in his arms.

“Thank you for keeping me company. Dean will never believe me that not all ghost are evil.” he thanked her, letting Luna jump from his arms after giving her a last pat behind the ears.

“You’re welcome, little one. Now, off you go!”

A last brilliant smile was directed at her, then Sam turned around and with a shout of “Dean!” he ran into the direction his brother was coming from.

Melissa sighed, looking fondly at the cat beside her. “I think I will kind of miss him, Luna. He was someone special.” Her familiar mewed in agreement.  

Together say faded into the forest, waiting for the next person that needed their help.

The End

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[zummar]

Cursed Hands

AN: This is my “little” entry for @plaidstiel-wormstache’s Halloween challenge. It kept growing so in order to do this story justice it’ll be a part two as soon as I can get it ready. It’s not beta’d so all the mistakes are mine (and please let me know if anything sounds strange, english is NOT my native language so sometimes I use proverbs that works here but maybe not in English)

Warnings: hopefully a tad creepy, swearing

Word count: 4094 (yeah, i know...it kept growing as I said...)

Prompts: “We’re looking for the man with the hands.” - Edward Scissorhands Arae - female spirits of curses, particularly of the curses placed by the dead upon those guilty of their death

                  Hope you enjoy, please like, comment, reblog!

”Noo, don’t…just…no” he raised his hand as a shield over his face, franticly trying to crawl further away from the being coming towards him. “I’ve been good, I never hurt anyone! Please!” his voice cracked in to an incoherent sob when his back hit the in the corner between the bed and dresser. The wall was hard and cold against his back, but the chilling fear was what made the hair on his back rise.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that” a soft melodic voice that would have been calming if it wasn’t for a cold undertone that made his skin crawl, came from the creature floating half inch above the floor.

She was naked from the waist up, skin so white it glowed in the rays of moonlight seeping through the windows, her hair gently flowing over her shoulders, shimmering in black and teal. When the moonlight hit her face, her eyes gleamed in an eerie light blue color. Something that could only be described as lightning flashes ran across her irises in an irregular pattern.

The man gasped as he tried to fill his lungs with air. “Please” he whispered, “don’t hurt me” he was nauseous with fear and the trembling that went through his body made it difficult to not throw up. “I never hurt anyone…” his voice broke “please…”

She spoke again, her face so close he would have felt her breath against him had she been human but there was nothing, only a cold air around her. “I think maybe Alice would disagree. In fact, I know she does” her lips curled up in the corners of her mouth “actually…she sent me…” She let the words sink in.

He looked at her, confusion written all over his face at first and then realization “Mrs. Barnes?” he breathed “but she’s dead.”

She laughed softly as she let her hand trace his jawbone, gently she placed her left hand on the back of his neck, her fingers digging into his hair. The conversation had him startled to the point that some of the initial fear had subsided. The grip on his neck hardened and she forced him up to standing, still against the corner of the wall. She leaned in and rested her forehead against his as she said:

“Yeah, that is kind of the point, you see…” she rubbed her nose against his, he tried to pull away but the grip on the back of his head was firm, the hair on his arms rose. Her right hands fingers walked across his bare chest, painstakingly slow.

“I am an Arae, one of the worst demons from the underworld, and I help the wronged get their well...deserved…revenge” she poked him in his chest with the three last words for emphasis.

“Revenge?” his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, eyes wide open staring right into the arae’s eyes.

“Mhmm” the arae closed her eyes with a serene, almost happy expression “She feels you’re responsible for her death” her hands were travelling his body leaving cold trails all over his torso, the nausea from before rose again. He desperately wanted her to stop but fear had him paralyzed and there was nowhere to run.  He could hear every beat of his heart against the inside of his ribcage.

She licked her lips before she continued “Her dying wish, or, well technically she was already dead when we met but I digress...she gave me the most wonderful idea on how to make you suffer...just like you made her suffer!

                                                        ***

“So, get this” Sam stepped into the kitchen where his brother was having breakfast. Not waiting for Dean to even acknowledge his presence Sam continued “I think I found us a case, but it’s really strange.” He paused and looked up from the tablet in his hands when he heard a grunt from where his brother sat. “You okay?”

Dean groaned and pointed a finger at his mug, filled with scalding hot coffee.

Sam read the text saying No coffee, no talkie “ah, one of those days” he smiled and sat down at the table across from Dean. “Good thing Charlie gave you that mug, huh?” his smile was still there but it didn’t reach all the way to his eyes at the memory of the friend they’d lost.

They sat in silence until Dean had finished both his first cup of coffee and breakfast, he stroked his hands over his face and said “So, strange case?”

Sam looked at Dean with one brow raised and a little smirk “Oh, so we’re good to talk now?”

“Are you gonna tell me ‘bout the case or what?”

“Well, I think there is a case at least” he paused briefly “You see, I accidentally happened to come across both strange deaths and odd…uhm, miraculous ‘healings’” he made air quotes with his right hand at the word ‘healings’ “all in the same town, they all seem connected”

“How?” Dean grunted.

“Look at this” Sam turned the tablet, so Dean could see the side by side articles on the screen, he pointed at the first one, ‘Dr. Jones saves girl with rare cancer’ and next to that ‘Homeless man found dead, had baseball sized tumor in his brain’ and under that ‘Local doctor cures paraplegic teenager’, ‘Woman hurt at Wall mart’.

Dean carefully read through the articles, one by one, his facial expression turning from doubtful to pensive. “Well, yeah…strange, strange that the girl and the homeless guy had what seems, the exact same type of tumor but I’m not totally sold on the paraplegic teen and the woman at wall Mart”

“Ah, but I did some digging and I found a weird coincidence” Sam looked triumphant “The woman, she was healthy and had no accidents up to the day she became paralyzed but when examined the doctors found she had an injury on the exact same vertebra as the teen that was cured, and…” he paused like he wanted a drum roll for effect “the teenager was cured by the same doctor that cured the girl with the tumor!”

“Huh, yeah, that makes it slightly stranger…and familiar” he froze in his thoughts in the middle of placing the dishes in the sink “do you remember that preacher that healed me when I got electrocuted and had a heart attack?”

“Yeah, you might be on to something.” Sam and Dean walked together down the corridor to the library. “So, a bound reaper that cures young people and then is sent to transfer their deaths onto older or less fortunate?”

“Yeah, must be, right?” an uncertainty in the last word “Huh…but, the woman at the store didn’t die, she’s paralyzed…not dead!” Dean looked at his brother, his eyebrows risen and creases deep in his forehead.

“You’re right…maybe reapers can do that too, I mean when they’re bound by magic?”

                                                     ***

They hit the road within an hour thinking they’d figure out most of the details on the way there. They arrived in the mid-sized town the same afternoon with no other ideas on what could be causing the mysterious deaths than a reaper bound by a witch. The non-death of the paraplegic woman was still bothering the though. “Ok, so I think I’ve read every lore and information I can find about the reapers and they ALL say that reapers reap, the don’t hurt or really even kill anyone, they just pick us up when it’s our time. And in the case of being bound they only transfer the reason to reap one person to another…” he sighed heavily raking his finger through his hair.

“Hmm…but, isn’t this odd?” Dean stared at the computer screen. “I think I found something”  

Sam moved over to Dean’s side of the table, so they could share the screen. “I did some digging about Dr. Jones here” he nodded at the picture of a handsome man with dark brown hair and light brown eyes “his name came up in two of the articles and turns out he also has connections to the two others too.”

Sam looked at his brother, eyebrows raised “Wha- How?”

“Well, he was at the store when the woman fell, and he apparently his morning run is just passed where the homeless guy was found”

Sam looked from the computer to his brother and back again “I think we need to pay or good Dr. Jones here a visit.”  

                                                      ***

The next morning Sam and Dean went to the hospital that currently was Dr. Jones’s workplace, they introduced themselves as agents from the CDC in an urgent matter that only Dr. Jones could help them with. The nurse at the front desk made absolutely no fuss of the matter and let them in as soon as there was an opening in the doctor’s schedule.

Sam did most of the talking and when he got Dr. Jones to take him on tour of the hospital Dean excused himself, so he could sneak back into the office to snoop around in peace. There were the usual things, a computer, a desk that hid no secrets, a book shelf and some cupboards along the left wall. Dean searched as thoroughly he could without disturbing the order too much of. He found nothing other than two chocolate bars and a harlequin novel, well hidden under a stack of papers in the topmost drawer. Dean silently slunk back out into the corridor where he texted his Sam.

Five minutes later Sam opened the door to the Impala’s passenger seat and got in. “So, nothing?”

“Nope, not a thing…we need to see his home, got the address?” Dean put the key in the ignition. The impala roared, although Dean would probably say it purred, as he turned the key to start the car.

Turned out the doctor didn’t live too far from the hospital and within ten minutes they’d found a place to park and was heading up to the house. The house wasn’t as big as you’d think, him being a doctor and all but it was well kept, and the lawn meticulously mowed.

They knocked on the door, but there was no answer and Sam looked through the windows to see if there was any movement, the house seemed empty. Sam gave Dean a questioning eye and Dean nodded and pointed to the far end of the house. Without a word they walked to the backside to see if there was somewhere they could get inside.

The back yard was as neat as the front and there was big porch covering the whole length of the house. Dean gestured to Sam that he was going to check the glass door leading from the house and out to the porch. He climbed the steps with careful steps and lightly pushed at the door, to his surprise the door slid open, he turned to Sam who was right behind him “well that was, lucky?” Dean said as he entered what seemed to be a dining room, connected to the kitchen.

“I’ll take upstairs” Sam headed into the small hallway and up the white wooden stair. While Sam searched the two bedrooms, closets and a bathroom with jacuzzi, Dean searched the downstairs.

“Found anything?” Sam asked when he found dean in study going through the books in the shelves to the right of the big cherry-wood desk placed in front of the window, facing the room.

“No, nothing yet” he pulled out another book, another one about medicine, just as you’d expect.

They continued in silence.

“Uhm, did you see this?” Sam pointed at a section of the book shelf he was searching.

A little distracted by his own doings Dean slowly turned to look at what Sam was pointing at “No, what?” He read the backs. “Mythology, what about it?”

“I don’t know…might be nothing but, it’s the only thing remotely ‘odd’- “he made air quotes again “-that we can find about this guy”

Dean gave his brother a ‘could you just stop with the air quotes’ look as he reached for the book with the most worn cover. He let it fall open in his hand.

“So, something called Arae is his favorite Greek mythology creature?” he eyed the pages, closed book and put it back.

“Wait, what did it say?”

“Just about demons from the underworld, and that they carry out curses” Dean shrugged his shoulders “let’s get out of here”

                                                         ***

“It’s not a reaper, the doctor seems squeaky clean and now this-“ Sam sighed heavily and tossed Dean the newspaper he had picked up while getting some groceries, he started unpacking the plastic bag he’d put on the table “-some homeless dude is harassing the police station saying that there is a warlock going around the homeless community, setting spells on them and making them sick, that this has been going on for years and that the finals straw was when his friend died from that tumor.”

“A warlock, huh?”

“Yep, I say we eat and then head on over to see if we can find this ‘Shorty’ guy” Sam raised his hands to make air quotes again.

“Would you please! Stop with those fucking-“ Dean made a face as he exaggerated his imitation of Sam’s favorite gesture.

Sam snorted at his brother and threw him a prepacked sandwich. They ate without a word.

                                                        ***

Tracking down a homeless guy by the name Shorty wasn’t easy. Ha was not to be found at any of the local shelters and it wasn’t until Sam came up with the idea to search in the area that the dead homeless guy was found a week earlier that they got a lead. They met a lady with no front teeth and grizzly hair, named Louise, and she told them about the guy that died.

“Yeah, Karl was a bit rough around the edges, but he was kind, as long as he got his morning beer he was as cuddly as a kitten” she had a fond look on her face as stroke the bench beside her “they found him on this bench ya’ know…” her eyes welled up with tears.

“Ma’am, can you tell us anything about how he died? Anything strange occurred that night?” Sam’s eyebrows knitted together in a compassionate frown.

Louise gazed far into the distance “I met him that night, he seemed fine” she drifted off in thoughts “nothing was out of the ordinary…but when me and Shorty found him in the morning…” she fell silent and looked up at the men in front of her, “well, he had a hand print on the left side of his face…as if someone had held a hand there, I talked to the police about it but they just said it was from being in a fight…”

“But you don’t think he was in a fight that night?” Sam filled in.

“No, Karl hardly ever fought, specially not fist fights, he always said he’d done enough of them, that he was too old for that now.” She dropped her shoulders and looked so sad and confused Sam couldn’t help but place a supportive hand on her shoulder. A thankful smile curved the corners of her mouth.

“Ma’am, can you tell us where we could find Shorty?”

“Uhm, yeah…the police station I recon…they came and took him this morning.”

Sam and Dean shared a look and then thanked Louise for the help, leaving her with some money for food.

                                                       ***

Dean dropped Sam of at the coroner’s office and drove himself to the police station.

“Hi there, I’m detective Brown FBI” he flipped his badge open to the clerk at the front desk “I need to have a word with Nikolas Dew or ‘Shorty’” God he loved how Sam so easily could track down the correct names of people, way better to have the right name than just a nickname when trying to pretend to be official FBI. “I was told you had him in custody.”

The clerk’s fingers danced quickly over the keyboard as he looked up the information Dean had given him.

“Yeah, he’s here, I’ll have an officer come and show you the way” Dean sat down at the green leather sofa in the waiting area.

Two minutes later a woman that introduced herself as Officer Day came and showed him into the station.

“What does FBI want with one of our most notorious addicts?” she asked as they walked down a corridor with florescent lights flickering above them.

“I’m afraid I can’t really go into that” Dean tried with the ‘top secret’ card, hopefully she’d let it go. He was lucky, she dropped it and started talking about Shorty. She wrote him off as a delusional drunk, probably with mental health issues.

“He’s been shouting at us to get out and catch this warlock that’s apparently terrorizing the homeless community” she shook her head and smiled at the situation. “A total nutter if you ask me” She unlocked the door they’d stopped in front of “we moved him to an interrogation room” she explained as she opened the door.

Shorty was a white man and form the looks of it he did his nickname justice, he couldn’t have been more than 5”4, his cloths seemed clean but worn and his red hair stood on end, like he just had his fingers in a power socket.

Dean waited until the door closed behind him before he explained why he was there.

“You want to hear about the warlock??” his blue eyes widened in surprise “The FBI wants to know about warlocks?”

“Can you tell me what you’ve seen?” Dean took the seat opposite Shorty. The man shifted nervously in his chair, unable to believe the situation.

“Uhm…yeah, yeah I can do that” he murmured stroking the nape of his neck. “About a year ago a strange man came to us, he was dressed in black and had a dark blue…. What do you call them” he lifted his hands to show how he threw something on his shoulders “a…uhm, like wizards and warlocks have on?”

“A cloak?” Dean filled in.

“Yeah, yes! A cloak!” he smiled, Dean thought the man looked like a child that got lollipop for being a good boy when he smiled.

“Ok, so what does this man do?”

“Not much at first, he mostly just stood around and sort of stared at us…he’s creepy” Shorty’s leg started to bounce nervously “it’s like he’s, I don’t know…scanning us?”

There was a crease between Deans brows “Is that all he does?”

“No, no he sometimes approaches us and tries to talk to us, asks us about our lives and stuff and sometimes he reaches out a hand and touches the one he talks to.”

“Touches, how?” this was weird, even for Dean.

“Yeah, he reaches out and places a hand on the ones he’s talking to, and…I know you’ll think I’m crazy like all the other cops here, but I swear that everyone he touches gets sick in some way. Once I saw him lay a hand on a man and he instantly fell down with a broken leg.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me about him? Eye color, hair color, accents? Anything?”

Shorty swallowed hard “No, it’s always too dark to see his eye color and his hair is covered by the hood on the cloak and I never spoken to him, and the once that have said he is kind of whispering, or wheezing between blunt teeth”

“Okay, thank you for your help, sir” Dean placed his hands on the table between them and pushed himself up. He reached into his pocket as he got up and handed Shorty a business card “If there’s anything else, you give me a call, alright?”

He took the card and put it in his jacket. When Dean turned to walk away Shorty said, “Yeah, there is one more thing” he cleared his throat, his eyes flitting between the table and Dean “I…there’s something with his hands…when he touches someone, they all say that his hands…glows” Shorty turned his head down and looked almost ashamed.

“Glows? How?” Dean frowned with a skeptical look on his face.

“Yeah, my friend said they glowed with a reddish light”

                                                           ***

Dean told Sam about what Shorty had told him as they drove back to the motel, he was as confused about it as Dean. Sam then told Dean about his visit to the coroner’s office. He’d seen the body of Karl, the homeless guy that was found dead, and even though he couldn’t see an actual hand print on Karl’s cheek, he could confirm that it looked like he had been burned or slapped real hard on the left side of his face.

“Found anything else?” Dean asked when they got out of the impala.

“Yeah, there was more bodies, or, the coroner told me he’d seen other markings just like the one on Karl and I tried to crosscheck the deaths to reports of miraculous recovering, but I couldn’t find anything.”

“Okay, so now what?” Dean stepped inside the motel room and threw his jacket on the bed.

“I don’t know but I think we should try Shorty’s friends. See if they can give us some more info about this man with the glowing hands.”

                                                             ***

They found Louise at the same spot as last time, she had however never talked to the ‘the man with the hands’ as she called him. She knew someone who had though and followed them to the area where he’d been encountered last.

An old abandoned train station in connection to a forest area was the place she took them to. There was three rusty steel barrels in total that had been turned into fireplaces. The night was chilly and people where hovering around them trying to keep warm. They approached the first group of people, something was stirring but as the group of people around the barrel saw that Louise had brought to outsiders the conversation faded.

Louise held out a hand to stop Sam and Dean to go further “I’ll go talk to them first, okay?”

Neither Sam nor Dean opposed to this idea and quietly stood back and let Louise proceed to talk to the group.

She waved them over and the brothers walked up to the fire.

“Hi, did Louise fill you in about why we’re here?” Sam took the lead.

“Yeah, you’re looking for that creepy guy!” a man in a dirt brown coat said loudly. The others hushed him and a murmur of voices telling him to not be so loud about it rose.

“Yes, we’re looking for the man with the hands, anyone seen him recently?” Sam looked over the small crowd.

“Yeah…” a woman to his right in a blue quilted jacket and a big white hat with earflaps said. Her voice was weak, and she quickly looked away when Sam caught her eye.

He raised his eyebrow to urge her on when she did a quick sideways glance at him once again.

“Please, tell us”

“I…I kinda saw him over there” she nodded towards the part of the forest shrouded in darkness “he wanted to talk to me…but I was afraid, so I ran”

“Okay, do you think he could still be here?” Dean asked

“I dunno, maybe…” she had her hands stretch out over the fire, occasionally rubbing them together.

“NOOOOO, DON’T!!!” the scream came from the part of the forest that the woman in the white hat had pointed out. They all froze in their doings briefly. Then everything happened at once, Sam and Dean turned on the spot and ran towards the forest with Louise and the other woman following close after.

“Over there!” Dean shouted to his brother, darting his way into the forest where you could see a faint red light. Dean got there first and threw himself at the cloaked figure that was hovering over a person laid on the ground. “I’ve got him!” he wrestled the man and finally had his hands around his back in a firm grip, resting his weight on the man under him.

Sam and the women were checking on the victim and when they were certain he’d be okay, or at least alive Sam got up and walked over to Dean. He had just finished tying the mans hands together and with his brother they turned him over. A familiar face looked back at them.

“Dr. Jones?”

#HalloweenStories #1500ghouls #plaidstiel-wormstache #my fanfiction

[jerk-bitch-and-an-angel-blog]

Only An Angel - Castiel x Reader feat Sam and Dean, OC Greg

For: Halloween Challenge @plaidstiel-wormstache

Prompt 6. “Dark spirits from the grave come forth. Lift us from the black. And show us, show us the way back.” “Dark spirits? Hey, no dark spirits! Don’t you make no dark spirits come out! (The Hanuted Mansion)

Monster: 6. Dementors

Warnings: spn style violence, minor bleeding, walking corpses, Reader abducted by evil ex boyfriend, summoning of evil spirits and language

Y/n had been missing for days and the boys new who had her, it was her ex boyfriend Greg. Sam and Dean had spent hours researching trying to find what took her, they'd never seen anything like it before. Castiel had come to the bunker to help, "what exactly did you see take Y/n" Castiel said. "It looked like a rotting corpse, but it was up walking around, it wasn't like a zombie" Sam said. "Yeah, that thing been dead a while" Dean said, Castiel knew exactly what they were.

"I'm afraid what you saw was a dementor, it's summoned with extremely powerful black magic. There's never just one, the spell caster starts with one and then creates more, they are used as soldiers" Cas said. "Then let's find them and get Y/n back" Dean said, "yeah, Cas how do we kill these dementors" Sam said. "Only way I know, break the object that brought them here, unfortunately I must go alone" Castiel said.

"What do you mean, Cas we're going with you" Sam said, "you and Dean can't fight dementors they are soul eaters, they are ravenous. They will surround you, nobody with a soul has a chance around them, unless they're near the summoning object" Castiel said. "You and Sam must stay here or you will die and Y/n will be devastated" Cas said. As much as the boys hated the idea of Castiel going alone, they knew he was right.

Meanwhile, Y/n was tied to a beam in what looked like an old church, a smell of rotting flesh burned her nose. Y/n looked around seeing several corpses in different stages of decomposition. "Oh fuck, gross I'm gonna puke" Y/n said, "good Y/n you're awake" Greg said. "Oh God, Greg fuck, I should've known" Y/n said, "yes, who else would love you enough to make an army to protect us and keep us together forever" Greg said. "Fuck Greg, you're crazier than I thought" she said, struggling with the rope around her wrists.

"Dark spirits from the grave come forth. Lift us from the black. And show us the way back" Greg said. "Dark Spirits? Hey, no dark spirits! Don't you make no dark spirits come out" Y/n said. But it was too late the ground shook and dark figures cane up through the earth and went into the corpses. The corpses, now dementors got up walking outside and surrounding the church.

Castiel did a locating spell used only by the Angels that saught out a person's soul, he found where she was quickly. "Sam and Dean I need you to find out what object he's using to summon them so I can break it" Cas said. Cas zapped to the church, he saw several dementors surrounding it. Although Castiel was not afraid of the dementors since he was an Angel and had no soul, he was still out numbered.

There was no warding of any kind on the building so Castiel just walked right in, he heard organ music. It sounded like the wedding Walt's and he heard Y/n screaming, "no I will never marry, you stupid, twisted, fuck" she yelled. Cas zapped into the room, "Castiel, help me" Y/n yelled, Greg turned around. "You, how did you get past my dementors" Greg said picking up his gun and shooting Cas in the chest Cas stepped towards Y/n. He untied her hands, "Cas, I knew you'd come for me" Y/n said, as Castiel planted a passionate kiss on her lips.

"Hey, you're supposed to be mine, not with some weird dead thing" Greg said as he stabbed Cas in the stomach and back. "Why won't you die" Greg said, "why do you love this Mr. Gadget wannabe and not me" he said. "For one Greg, he's never used black magic on me, he's never used dementors to abduct me to force me to marry him. Castiel, is brave, strong, loving and he loves me" Y/n said.

"But I love you Y/n, I've loved you since second grade" Greg said, "I have loved you, since I saw the piece of your beautiful soul in the stars" Castiel said. "I still wanna know why you won't die and how you past my dementors" Greg whined. "I don't have a soul, I'm an Angel" Cas said, "oh" Greg said, Cas called Sam and he told him it was a crystal ball that brought the dementors there. Cas zapped Y/n back to the bunk and went back to the church. He grabbed one of the dementors, he brought it inside the church, the dementor went right for Greg. It pinned Greg against the wall sucking out his soul, once Greg was dead Castiel broke the crystal ball. The spirits went back Hell, Cas zapped to the bunker "it's done, Greg is dead" Castiel said. "Good" Dean, Sam and Y/n all said in unison, "Castiel did you really mean what you said, you love me" Y/n said. "Yes, of course I do" Castiel said planting a kiss on her lips, Y/n deepened the kiss. "Really guys" Sam said, "gross she's like our little sister Cas" Dean said as they stormed out of the room.

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@meg-wayward-af @jessicawritessmut @uniquewerewolfsuit @queencflair @lucilepiewhiskey @justanotherdeangirl

#HalloweenStories #1500Ghouls #castiel fanfiction #castiel x reader

[plaidstiel-wormstache]

The Nightmare pt1

AN: This is for my 1500 Follower and Halloween Challenge A two parter. Both prompts are in the second half. I wanna be fully upfront now and say I’ve taken both quotes from two wonderful ladies that had to drop out of my challenge for reasons. And I stole one of the monsters as well. Word Count: 3485 Prompts: “Don’t be afraid, YN. We’ll slow this down together. Feel my chest. Feel it moving in and out. Breathe like me. Breathe like me. Come on.” -Signs “Which would be worse - to live like a monster? Or to die as a good man?” -Shutter Island Monsters: Baku & Human Serial Killer Warnings: Horror elements, supernatural violence, maybe a little fluff, nightmares. More vivid warnings are in the tags (if you must). This is UNEDITED and unbeta’d - I apologise in advance! Characters: YN (reader), Dean and Sam, with a few OC’s and mentions along the way.

My feet smacked hard against the pavement. I gulped for air. My heart hammered in my chest, pumping adrenaline around and around my body. “Not fast enough!” The voice sounded from close behind me. I screamed, a blood-curdling noise that erupted from deeper than I knew possible. I ran faster, passing shop after shop. Lights on, shutters down, closed signs swinging. Why were all these stores closed? I reached out and caught myself on a sign-pole, propelling myself around the corner. There, at the end of the row, a restaurant. Open. “Help! Fire!” I screamed, hoping to gain anyone’s attention. The breath on the back of my neck made my whole body jerk forward. An uncontrollable shiver ran down my spine. I was so close, but so was he. I sprinted harder, willing myself to go faster. I burst through the door. Finally safe. “Help me!” I pleaded. I’d startled the man with the broom, but he straightened, walking towards me, arms outstretched, trying to hold my shoulders, calm me. “He’s coming!” I warned, fighting him to get back, away from the glass. If I stayed here he’d see me. He’d come for me. “Help me!” I screamed again. The man finally opened his mouth, “I’ve been waiting.”

I sat bolt upright, waking with a start. Sweat soaked my pajama shirt and the couch beneath me, while my heart hammered in my chest. “You okay?” Sam questioned from above me, his hands in the air, showing no harm. He was wearing his running gear and had clearly not just returned. “Nightmare.” I breathed, hand on my chest trying to steady the beating beneath it. “You need to talk?” Sam asked, dropping his hands to his side. I shook my head and pushed off the inches of blanket that remained over me before standing. “Go run, I’ll shower and find Dean.” I announced, looking at the empty bed, that I could’ve slept on. Sam waited a beat, giving me the option to change my mind. “Sam, I’m fine. Go.” I pushed, stepping toward him to physically push him through the door. “Alright, alright.” He said, finally leaving. I sighed when the door closed, sinking down to a crouch and covering my face with my hands. The nightmare always took a toll, never changing, never evolving, always terrifying.

“Where are you? We got another case. Sam and I have checked out, we’ll meet you at the diner.” I hung up from leaving Dean his third voicemail of the morning and shrugged at Sam when he raised his eyebrows. “Breakfast?” I suggested, hefting the bag further over my shoulder and watching as Sam did the same. “So, this morning, I was thinking, and, could it be a Chimera?” Sam asked, looking over his shoulder at me. “Uhh, remind what they are again.” I said, after having realised the name meant nothing to me. “They’re a mixture of different animals, depending on what you read, and an omen for disaster.” Sam said, looking down at me, a look of concern on his face when I shook my head. “The Iliad?” He asked, I feigned an oh of recognition and pushed on. “Yeah. Maybe. These people killed themselves, though.” I nodded my thanks when Sam pulled the door to the diner open for me, “Do Chimera’s cause suicide?” “I’ll keep reading.” Sam said, more to himself than me. We sat down in a booth towards the back of the diner, Sam taking out the tablet while I reached for the menu. The words blurred together when I tried to read it. I rubbed at my eyes and placed the menu back, already settled on what I’d have. “Storms, shipwrecks and natural disasters…” Sam muttered as he read. “Is suicide a natural disaster?” I tried, getting a frown from Sam without him averting his gaze from the website in front of him. "No … they--” “Morning darlin’s, may I take your order?” An older waitress asked, looking between the two of us. “Yeah, can I please get banana pancakes with bacon and maple syrup. He’ll have the omelette with a fruit salad--” “No, just--” Sam tried to correct, drawing the waitresses attention. “He’ll have the fruit salad.” I repeated, gaining a knowing smile from the waitress and a look of annoyance from Sam. “And we’re waiting on one more, but he’ll have the Special Fry Up, extra bacon.” I nodded, the lady tucked her notepad back into her apron. “Coffee?” She asked, looking between the two of us. “God, yes.” I exhaled, slouching in the booth. “Yes, please.” Sam said with a smile. “Alright then, I’ll be right back.” She said warmly before shuffling towards the coffee pots. “Why do you do that? You just steal the best bits of fruit, why don’t you just let me order what I actually want?” He asked, sinking down in the booth like a petulant child. I just shrugged and leant my elbows on the table. “So, Chimera? No?” I changed the subject, getting Sam back on track. “No. They infect and mutate with a dose of super strength.” He explained, handing me the tablet and pulling out the case notes he’d printed before we got on the road. “Back to the drawing board.” I muttered, closing that research tab after not reading it. “You guys investigating the suicides?” The waitress was back, pouring coffees but looking at the police notes Sam had. “Oh, uhh,” Sam turned them over, hiding the contents, “Yeah, in a way.” He said. “Can you tell us anything about them?” I asked, sitting up a little straighter, waiting eagerly for her to finish pouring my coffee. “Emma worked here for a week, she always looked so exhausted.” The waitress sighed, remembering her co-worker. A bang and an eruption of laughter broke her out of her memories and all of us turned towards the noise. “Stop!” The woman squealed, making both Sam and I groan. We watched Dean pull the young blonde closer to him and kiss her affectionately before letting her go. “You’re late, Stacey!” Our waitress called across the mostly empty diner, stalking after the young woman. “Hey.” Dean greeted, sliding into the booth next to me, bumping against my shoulder, jostling me as he got comfy. “Hey yourself.” I countered. Dean shrugged and smiled over at his brother instead. Sam blinked slowly, an annoyed look sat upon his features. “Life’s short.” Dean defended, “Whatcha got?” He asked, pulling the case notes out of Sam’s hands. “Not herpes.” I murmured under my breath, making the younger Winchester snicker. “Chimera.” Dean said confidently, nodding and looking at us both. “Already thought of that, not a Chimera.” Sam said, snatching the paper from Dean when he saw the older waitress heading towards us with three balanced plates. “Here we go, banana pancakes,” She slid the plate across the table to me, “Omelette,” She placed the dish down in front of Sam, “which means, Special.” She said, planting the plate with everything on it, in front of Dean. “Coming back with your salad.” She winked at Sam before leaving. “You ordered for me?” Dean asked, pulling me under his arm and locking me in a headlock, “Ain’t she the best?” Dean joked, holding me firmly in place. I didn’t have the energy to put up much of a fight, instead weakly clawing at his arm. “Ahem.” Came the small cough. Dean quickly let go of me, shoving me back to the corner of the booth. “Thanks.” Sam said, unnoticed by the not-too-impressed blonde who slammed the fruit salad down on the table and stalked off. “No, she’s a …” Dean called after the waitress before letting it go with a shrug. “Wanna finish that sentence?” I asked, turning on Dean, holding the end of my gun against the side of his kneecap. The older Winchester gulped as his brother laughed.

“And they have a lack of any happy hormone?” I asked, struggling to concentrate on what the coroner was saying. “Yeah...” She said, eyeing me from across the metal slab, “So did the others.” She added. “Any reason for that?” I asked. The woman in the white coat looked at Dean. “Is she okay?” She asked as I swayed, rubbing at my eyes and yawning. “Yeah, she’s … drove all night.” He lied, nudging me with his elbow when the woman turned around.   “So you were saying exhaustion and depression?” Dean continued, moving away, hoping to draw attention off me. “Yes, the chemicals the brain makes to make us dream, that essentially keep us going and striving for better, they’re non existent in these people. Like they were sucked dry.” The doctor explained, handing Dean a file. “Thanks, we’ll let you know if there’s anything else we need.” Dean wrapped, planting a firm hand in the small of my back and giving me a light shove towards the doors. “Wait,” The cororner called, making us both turn, one slightly faster than the other, “Do you have problems sleeping?” She asked me. “Not so much sleeping,” I mumbled, “Just the dreaming.” I couldn’t help the yawn that escaped. “There’s a, this is so unprofessional of me but…” She said, turning to her handbag at her desk. Dean looked between her and I, taking a minute step forward, I didn’t miss how he’d moved closer, just in case. “There’s this guy in town, he helped me with this recurring nightmare.” She handed me a card that had an address scribbled on it, “Don’t ask me how it worked, it just did. What’s to lose, huh?” She said with a smile and a shrug. “Thanks.” I said, waking up a little at the idea of a soundless sleep, “And what was your name again?” I asked, ignoring Dean’s eyeroll and moving closer to her, holding out my hand. “Amelia,” She said, taking my hand and batting her eyelashes. “What a beautiful na-” “Alright, let’s go.” Dean said, pulling me by my elbow out the doors. “Thanks!” Dean called over his shoulder to the confused, sexy, coroner.

“What’s wrong with you? Comatose one minute, flirting away the next.” Dean grumbled as we approached the Impala. “It’s these nightmares, they exhaust me more than being around you, does.” I earned myself one of Dean’s infamous annoyed glares before I slid into the front seat. “Well, I’ll drop you at this place, and catch up with Sam. Meet you back at the motel.” Dean said. Both brothers knew what the dream was, it was how I got my start in the hunting world. And even though I’d dealt with bigger and badder, that night still haunted me. “Thanks.” I said, settling further into the seat and closing my eyes. “So, you think the… You’re asleep aren’t you?” Dean glanced over at me. Mouth open, drool ready to spill over, eyes closed and a snore building.

“Watch out!” I yelled, waking up quickly as Dean slammed on the breaks and started laughing. “Never fails.” He chuckled, I punched his arm, hard and swung the door open. “Asshole.” I muttered, picking up my bag and climbing out of the front seat. “See you later.” He called out the window, muffler already growling as he pulled away. I looked up and down the street, cafes were spotted up and down, between boutiques and Bohemia themed stores, and in front of me, the address on the card. Sadi’s Psychic Solutions, I closed my eyes and rubbed the sleep from them, of course this is where a small town, outside New Orleans, would send me. I sighed heavily and took a step up, pushing the door open. “Welcome YN, I’ll be out in a moment.” A soft male’s voice called from the back somewhere. “Uhh, hi.” I called back, looking around at the dark room. It was what I expected from a place like this; beads over the doors, scented candles and incense sticks, crystals and statue like objects sitting on painted-black shelves. “Please, take a seat, I’m putting something together for your dreams.” He called again. This was creepy to say the least, he knew my name, he knew what I was there for. I hadn’t met a psychic before, but Sam and Dean said they once had a friend that was one, maybe this guy… “Hi there, I’m Sadi,” He greeted when he came out, holding a wooden bowl with, what looked like, potpourri inside. “Hey there, I was sent by--” “Amelia, yes, she had a similar problem with nightmares,” He began to explain, “She’s doing better now.” I couldn’t help but shake the feeling he was hiding something when he looked away and moved me into the other room, like maybe I wasn’t getting the whole truth. But I was so tired, and needed a full night’s rest without that damned nightmare, so I shook the thought from my head. “Do you mind if I ask, what the nightmare’s about?” He said, gesturing to the seat across from him. We’d walked into a back room, dark, lit only by candles, the bowl sitting in the middle of the table, between us. “You don’t know?” I said, raising an eyebrow at him. He smiled and nodded. “Of course,” He warmed his hands, waiting for my nod of consent before he placed them on either side of my head. “If you could close your eyes.” He said, closing his own. I closed them briefly but opened them again as soon as he started muttering under his breath. “You’re being followed, chased.” He said, I was impressed, but didn’t nod or acknowledge the guess, watching as his eyes scrunched and he rubbed a circle into my temples. I frowned, but let him. “You reach safety, but then that turns out to be the evil you’re running from.” He said, his eyes fluttered under his lashes and I quickly closed my eyes. His hands slowly lowered from my head and I blinked across at him. “Wow.” I said, it wasn’t a lie. I was a little taken by how accurate he was. It would’ve been more impressive if he had described the scene, but I didn’t know how he read or saw my dream. He might’ve just been reading feelings and not seeing it in front of him.

“So, here we have a mixture of ingredients. I can sense you believe in the paranormal world?” He inquired, watching me as I smiled. “Uhh, yep! It’s a hobby of mine.” I said, trying to contain how amused I was by myself. “So you’ll trust me when I say, this will only work if you believe it will?” He reached to the space beside him and procured a knife, not missing when I flinched. “Your blood will focus this spell to your specific dream.” He explained. I took a deep breath, taking the knife from him. “Fuck it.” I muttered, and in a practiced move, I cut along my palm and dropped blood into the bowl. He handed me a white rag. I wiped the blood from the knife and then wrapped my hand, watching him. “Give me your hands and we’ll begin.” He held his hands out, resting palm up on the table, either side of the bowl. I took a deep breath and reached out. “Let’s get me some solid sleep.” I breathed, joining my hands with his. “Watashi wa Baku o yobidasu. Kanojo no yume o toru tame ni koete kita. Gisei-sha ni sōgū suru mono o ubau.” He chanted, the bowl sparked and erupted in green flames, dying out as quickly as they started, my blood gone but the ingredients seemed untouched by fire. He loosened his grip on my hands and looked across at me. “All done?” I asked, tightening the cloth around my palm. “You will have uninterrupted sleep.” He sounded much like a fortune cookie. “How much is that?” I asked after an awkward beat of silence. “That’s one twenty-five.” He said, standing, suddenly no longer interested in being friendly and mysterious. He stood from the table and walked to the front room, leaving me gawking after him. That price was … if it didn’t work, I’d be back with my gun.

“So?” Sam asked, clearly clued in by the older Winchester as to where I’d just been. “We’ll see.” I huffed, sitting down on the couch, reaching for my heeled boots that accompanied today’s professional look. “What about you? Find anything?” I asked, missing the glance that passed between the two men. “Uhh, well… I was speaking to the families of the victims and seems they all had nightmares.” Sam explained, his tone was cautious, as if he was hoping I wasn’t hearing what he was saying. “What?” I asked, sitting back up, peeling off my blouse to relax in my tank top. “That’s not the worst part.” Dean said, somehow he found this humorous. I was gonna whoop his ass later. “Care to share?” I asked when it was obvious they were doing that annoying silent conversation thing. “Well, umm…” Sam began, swallowing thickly as he rubbed at the back of his neck. I looked to Dean who shrugged and quickly picked up his beer bottle, holding it to his lips in an unending sip. “Sam.” I cautioned. “They all went to Sadi’s Psychic Solutions.” He said, his expression already pained, as if I’d already blasted them. I clenched my jaw, closed my eyes and took a deep breath, counting to ten. “This is no different to being bait for another case. And if I get eight, uninterrupted hours out of it…” I tried to reason. The brothers were surprised at how easy I was taking this, so was I. But a solid sleep was something I daydreamed about, an unattainable desire. Of course I was willing to be the guinea pig in this instance. “Dinner?” I asked, breaking the silence. “Uhh, sure.” Dean said, having finally lowered the bottle from his mouth. “Let me change and then we can head to the bar.”

“I’ll take first shift, five hours should—” Sam said to his brother. “Whoa!” I said, opening the bathroom door after just closing it. “Shifts? I don’t need you doing a Cas, I don’t need you lurking over me while I sleep.” I informed. “But, what if this guy has-” Sam tried, no help from Dean who was too busy smirking. “Sam! Quit it. The vics offed themselves. I’m not about to do that. I feel fine.” I didn’t, I was close to snapping and killing the both of them, anything to get closer to sleep. Sam finally shrugged, looking down at his hands. I took that as a victory and headed back to the bathroom. “Give your gun to Sam and we’ll take the knife from under your pillow.” Dean suggested, sometimes he surprised me with just how good a mediator he could be. Sometimes. “Whatever. You’re just not watching me sleep.” I called back, changing into a ratty old shirt and someone’s stolen boxers.

When i got back into the room, I made a beeline for the bed, ignoring the two odd looks from the brothers that were now sitting at the small table. “Hey, that’s-” Dean tried, “Don’t.” Sam said, glancing over at me as I was already crawling onto the bed. “It was yours last night. Not my fault you spent it in a different bed.” I said over my shoulder, getting settled under the covers. “Actually, it wasn’t in a bed.” “Dean.” Sam groaned. I heard a light thump as Sam must’ve smacked at his older brother. “Night.” I yawned, pulling a pillow over my head. The boys kept murmuring between themselves, but once I closed my eyes…

“YNN.” Dean grumbled sleepily, he rubbed a knuckle into his eye as he awkwardly shifted on the couch. YN was whimpering in her sleep, something that happened often enough to not worry either of the boys, normally they wouldn’t wake to them. “Help,” She whined, Dean frowned and opened his eyes. She’d never spoken in her sleep before. “YN?” Dean called into the dark, louder than before. She was still whimpering, pleading for help. Dean looked over the arm of the lounge, and what he saw froze him to the lumpy cushions of the couch. YN was thrashing about in the bed, tossing and turning from the nightmare. But a dark figure loomed over her, what Dean suspected was the snout, was close to her head, a white stream flowing from her temple and through it’s open jaws. “YN!” Dean yelled, effectively waking Sam, who sat bolt upright. Sam’s arms were extended, gun held steadily out in front of him. A directing finger from Dean and Sam turned to face the spirit, firing a witch-killing bullet into the spirit. A high-pitched snarl ripped from the figure, a scream erupting from YN, as it disappeared, like a heavy fog clearing.

Part 2

Tagging Friends:

@akshi8278 @dont-trust-humanity @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @redlipstickandplaid @lipstickandwhiskey @jensen-jarpad @avasmommy224 @munlis @arryn-nyxx @autopistaaningunaparte @babypieandwhiskey @beckawinchester @blacktithe7 @bringmesomepie56 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @charliebradbury1104 @chvalkenberg95 @clairese1980 @dancingalone21 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @fandoms-are-the-best-escape @frenchybell @gabby913 @grace-for-sale @green-love-red-fantasyhearts @hasta-impalasta @i-like-your-assbutt-dean @ilostmyshoe-79 @impala-dreamer @impalaimagining @iwriteaboutdean @jalove-wecallhimdean @kazchester-fanfiction @kristaparadowski @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @lucifer-in-leather @lucis-unicorn @melonberri @manawhaat @mogaruke @mrswhozeewhatsis @nichelle-my-belle @notnaturalanahi @oriona75 @ruprecht0420 @sdavid09 @sherloki-moriartea @thegreatficmaster @waywardjoy @wheresthekillswitch @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @wi-deangirl77 @wideawakeandwriting @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople @maddieburcham1 @captainemwinchester @samwinjarpad @kittenofdoomage @atc74 @katymacsupernatural @room-with-a-cat @clairese1980 @emoryhemsworth @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @ackleholic-hunter @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @whispersandwhiskerburn @ruprecht0420 @michellethetvaddict @sandlee44 @mrsbatesmotel53

#HalloweenStories #1500Ghouls #challenge #supernatural #spnfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #reader insert #biseuxal #being chased in your nightmare #can't escape the dream

[plaidstiel-wormstache]

Halloween & 1500 Challenge

Hey lovelies, there seem to be more of you popping by for a follow and I appreciate that so much! And you know what… I have a challenge in mind for Halloween! My first challenge was a Halloween last year and it catapulted me into confidence within my ideas and writing, and I made some fantastic friends from it.

So here I am, paying it forward. But with all that said, I was hoping to release this as a 1.5k follower celebration as well. I'm 20 away, but Halloween is creeping closer and I understand everyone has lives between now and then. So, here’s the plan: I’m going ahead with the challenge, and if I reach my follower count before it’s over, and there’s enough people showing interest, I will add more prompts to celebrate the milestone!

So here’s my challenge:

Below I have Quotes from brilliant movies that are my kinda Halloween! And below that I have Monsters, some internal, some traditional, and some you may not have seen before... I’d like you to pick one from each category and work them into your story as best you can!

Rules: -Send me an ask with your quote and monster and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. -A keep reading link if it's longer than 500 words. -Keep it SPN -- actors or characters is fine. Shipping is fine. Reader insert is a bonus, just do you! -Warnings for everyone; some don't like smut or horror or graphic scenes! -Mention/tag me (@plaidstiel-wormstache) within your AN and include the tags #HalloweenStories #1500Ghouls -DUE on the 30th of October and I’ll post for Halloweeeeen! -Have fun and don't strain yourself!

MORE QUOTES AND MONSTERS HERE

Quotes:

“Die, you alien shithead!” - Mars Attacks @jessicawritessmut

“What are you wearing?” “Combat boots, a parka, you jerk, who is this? This isn’t funny!” “Yes it is!” - When A Stranger Calls @queencflair

“Some fates are guaranteed, no matter who tries to intervene.” - Practical Magic @wi-deangirl77

“What’s wrong with her?” “Her spell’s not working.” - The Craft @chaosinacoffeecup

“Suck a fuck.” “How does one suck a fuck?” - Donnie Darko @thecuriouscrusader

“She’s the only one who makes any sense around this insane asylum.” - The Nightmare Before Christmas @whispersandwhiskerburn

“We’re looking for the man with the hands.” - Edward Scissorhands @zummar

“What have you done to ___?” “Nothing, why, do you think I should?” - Rocky Horror Picture Show @babypieandwhiskey

“Hello, ____. Come and play with us. Come and play with us, ____. Forever and ever and ever…” - The Shining @demonangelimpala

“Villainy wears many masks, none so dangerous as the mask of virtue.” - Sleepy Hollow @lucilepiewhiskey

“And what makes you think that he was feelings for me?” “The way he never touches you.” - The Village @novakfandoms

“When you lose someone you love, they never really leave you. They just move into a special place in your heart…” “I don’t want him in my heart. I want him here with me.” - Frankenweenie @mandilion76

“I can't live without you. And I won't let you live without me.” - Sleeping with the Enemy @captainemwinchester

“Which would be worse - to live as a monster? Or to die as a good man?” - Shutter Island @faegal04

“You kept your promise. You set me free. Now I can do the same for you.” Corpse Bride  @reigningqueenofwords

Monsters:

Cupid/Eros @captainemwinchester

John’s Death @chaosinacoffeecup

Dean’s fear of giving into the guy he became in Hell @faegal04

Arachne - weaver who challenged Athena and was consequently transformed into a spider @mandilion76

Banshee @reigningqueenofwords

Crocotta - mythical dog-wolf of India or Ethiopia @queencflair

Lamia - child-devouring sea-monster or night-haunting daemon @demonangelimpala

Qareen - a spiritual double inside a person or in a parallel world @jessicawritessmut

Soul Eater @babypieandwhiskey

Wraith @thecuriouscrusader

Sam’s memories of The Cage @novakfandoms

Arae - female spirits of curses, particularly of the curses placed by the dead upon those guilty of their death @zummar

Graeae - three old women with one tooth and one eye among them (aka the Gray Witches/ Gray Sisters) @lucilepiewhiskey

Dryad - tree nymph’s/spirit @wi-deangirl77

Headless Horseman @whispersandwhiskerburn

The biggest THANK YOU to @whispersandwhiskerburn for her constant help in everything I do here, she’s the push I need, the caffeine to my coffee! Thank you, darling!

Tagging a few friends that might be interested in participating or at least boosting: @waywardjoy @wi-deangirl77 @sdavid09 @jalove-wecallhimdean @thegreatficmaster @arryn-nyxx @percywinchester27 @babypieandwhiskey @bringmesomepie56 @trexrambling @blacktithe7 @avasmommy224 @grace-for-sale @kittenofdoomage @wheresthekillswitch @mrswhozeewhatsis @manawhaat @casbabydontgoineedyou @jpadjackles @impala-dreamer @impalaimagining @ellen-reincarnated1967 @dancingalone21

#HalloweenStories #1500Ghouls #1500 Followers #Challenge #halloween #spn fics #supernatural challenge

[plaidstiel-wormstache]

Update: Halloween & 1500 Challenge

Hey ma dudes,

14 of you crazy lovelies have already signed up and I still have more of you wanting to join in ... so here’s more quotes and monsters for your choosing. Again, please pick ONE OF EACH and send me an ask. Make sure you include a backup for both and I’ll get back to you asap.

Here’s the original Challenge post: RIGHT HERE - So you can have a look at the rules and such. I’ll put the quotes and monsters under the line so I’m not taking up space on dash’s.

Quotes:

  “____, last night - you were unhinged. You were like some desperate howling demon. You frightened me. Do it again!” - The Addams Family

“You realize you’re walking right into her trap?” “I have to go back, they’re my parents.” “Challenge her, then. She may not play fair, but she won't refuse. She's got a thing for games.” - Coraline

“Ah. Well... I attended Julliard... I'm a graduate of the Harvard business school. I travel quite extensively. I lived through the Black Plague and had a pretty good time during that. I've seen the exorcist about a hundred and sixty-seven times, and it keeps getting funnier every single time I see it... Not to mention the fact that you’re talking to a dead guy... now what do you think? You think I’m qualified?” - Beetlejuice @samwinjarpad

“Unfaithful lover long since dead. Deep asleep in thy wormy bed. Wiggle thy toes, open thine eyes, twist thy fingers toward the sky. Life is sweet, be not shy. On thy feet. So sayeth I!” - Hocus Pocus

“What’s it like to die?“ “Like... being born, only backwards. I remember, I didn't go where I was supposed to go. I just stayed behind, so my ____ wouldn't be lonely.” - Casper @sille1992

“Dark spirits from the grave come forth. Lift us from the black. And show us, show us the way back” “Dark spirits? Hey, no dark spirits! Don't you make no dark spirits come out!” - Haunted Mansion @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel

 “I want you inside me.” “No, I can't. It sounds like you've got at least two or three people in there already.” - Ghostbusters @grace-for-sale

 “Don't be afraid, ____. We'll slow this down together. Feel my chest. Feel it moving in and out. Breathe like me. Breathe like me. Come on.” - Signs @ellen-reincarnated1967

“Do you know why you're afraid when you're alone? I do.” - The Sixth Sense @justanotherdeangirl

 “You should actually limber up as well. Especially if we're going down that hill. It is very important.” “I don't believe in it. You ever see a lion limber up before it takes down a gazelle?” - Zombieland @roxy-davenport

“Looks like we just woke the dead. In that respect, please turn off all pagers and cellphones.” - World War Z

“He looks at your... like you’re something to eat.” - Twilight @castiels-broken-fool

Monsters:

Poltergeist @grace-for-sale

Chupacabra @justanotherdeangirl

Basilisk

Baku

Black Dog - cousin to the hell hound

Dementors @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel

Human Serial Killer @ellen-reincarnated1967

Revenant - Reanimated dead

Bloody Bones - water boogeyman @samwinjarpad

Familiar @sille1992

Whispers - werewolf relative @roxy-davenport​

Gancanagh - male fairy who seduces human women @castiels-broken-fool

Send me an ask with a monster AND a quote and I’ll get back to you when I can.

Rules: -A keep reading link if it’s longer than 500 words. -Keep it SPN – actors or characters is fine. Shipping is fine. Reader insert is a bonus. Just do you! -Warnings for everyone; some don’t like smut or horror or graphic scenes! -Mention/tag me (@plaidstiel-wormstache) within your AN and include the tags #HalloweenStories #1500Ghouls -DUE on the 30th of October and I’ll post for Halloweeeeen!

#halloween challenge #halloween stories #1500Ghouls #1500 followers #update #supernatural challenge #supernatural fics