She Talks to Angels | {BOOK 2}

14|The Raising of Samhain

Sam had found another hex bag at the scene of the second murder.

"I'm telling you, both these vics are squeaky clean," Dean grumbled, staring at the laptop screen in front of him. "There is no reason for a wicked bitch payback."

"Maybe because it's not about that," Sam suggested.

He was laying on one of the beds looking through a book. I had a couple other books on the other bed, also trying to find something useful.

"Wow. Insightful," Dean rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"Maybe this witch isn't working a grudge, maybe they're working a spell," Sam continued excitedly, still staring intently at whatever he'd found in his book. "Check this out. Three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest. Celtic calendar, the final day of the final harvest is October 31st."

"Halloween," I said, dropping my book and heading over to see.

"Exactly," Sam nodded.

"What exactly are the, uh, blood sacrifices for?" Dean inquired, looking over the page.

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

Dean looked up at his brother blankly.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"Dean, Samhain is the damn origin of Halloween," I informed him.

"She's right. The Celts believe that October 31st was the one night a year when the veil was the thinnest between the living and the dead, and it was Samhain's night," Sam added. "I mean, masks were put on to hide from him, sweets left on doorsteps to appease him, faces carved into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcised centuries ago."

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

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

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

"Dean, this is serious."

"I am serious."

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

"And the six hundred year marker rolls around...?" I trailed off.

"Tomorrow night," Sam finished.

"Naturally," I rolled my eyes.

Dean went back to looking at the book, flipping to a picture showing a demon on a heap of bodies and holding a head in his hand.

"Well, it sure is a lot of death and destruction for one demon," he noted.

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

"Raising what exactly?"

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

"So we're talking ghosts."

"Yeah."

"Zombies."

"Mm-hm."

"Leprechauns?"

"Dean," I glared at him.

"Those little dudes are scary," he smirked. "Small hands."

I shook my head at him, turning away.

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

"It's gonna be a slaughterhouse," Dean realized.

"I hate Halloween," I muttered.

⁘

Dean went back to check out the Wallace's house, and ended up finding the connection between the two victims. Tracy Davis, the girl who had been bobbing for apples before the second victim boiled to death in the bucket was also the Wallace's babysitter. She had gotten suspended from school for a violent altercation with the art teacher, so we headed to the high school to talk to him.

When we arrived, Dean paused to stare up at some masks and looked like he got lost in thought. I followed his gaze to a particularly demonic looking one and realized he must be thinking about Hell. Sam and I came up behind him and I reached out to take his hand as Sam spoke.

"Bring back memories?"

Dean seemed startled, looking back at Sam, then me.

"What do you mean?"

"Being a teenager, all that angst," Sam elaborated.

A relieved look crossed Dean's features, and I bit my lip. Sam clearly hadn't picked up on what Dean was really thinking about like I had. It made sense, considering Sam still believed Dean didn't remember Hell even though I knew better.

"Oh," Dean breathed out.

"What did you think I meant?" Sam inquired, brow furrowed.

"Nothing," Dean shook his head.

We found out from Don, the teacher, that Tracy lived by herself in her own apartment. She had arrived on her own about a year earlier. Sam went to check out the apartment while Dean and I went to ask her friends if they'd seen her around.

"So?" Dean asked Sam when we got back to the motel.

"Tracy was nowhere I could find," Sam shook his head. "Any luck with her friends?"

"Nah, luck is not our style," I told him. "Her friends don't know where she is."

"It's like the bitch popped a broomstick," Dean added.

"She could be making the third sacrifice any time," Sam pointed out.

"Yes, thank you, Sam," Dean rolled his eyes.

"Trick or treat," a voice said.

We looked over to see a kid dressed up as an astronaut.

"This is a motel," Dean said.

"So?" the kid challenged him.

"So we don't have any candy."

"No, we have a ton in the uh..." 

Sam looked back, pointing to the Impala and Dean shot him a look.

"We did, but it's gone."

I rolled my eyes, the astronaut looking unimpressed as Dean turned back to him.

"Sorry kid, we can't help ya," he told him.

"I want candy," Astronaut stated stubbornly.

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

Astronaut's eyes narrowed as he stared up at Dean. He walked away, shoving Dean as he went. Once he had disappeared, we made our way into our motel room. Sam went first and immediately drew his gun and moved into an offensive stance, ready to attack.

"Who are you?!" he yelled.

Dean and I rushed in, realizing who was in the room with Sam and tried to stop him.

"Sam! Sam, wait! It's Castiel," Dean told him.

The elder Winchester pushed Sam's gun down, and the younger brother didn't fight it, stunned.

"The angel," I added quietly.

In addition to Castiel, there was another angel standing with his back to us by the window. I couldn't make out much besides the large wings furled on his back.

"Him, we don't know," I nodded to the other angel.