CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT:
IT'S THE GREAT PUMPKIN,
SAM WINCHESTER.

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

THOR AND JANE Foster was a suggestion that made Birdie ponder for a moment.

Sam had rolled his eyes in annoyance and scoffed, looking towards Birdie with the expectation that she'd have an identical expression on her face, but he found her with her brows scrunched together and eyes pinned to the floor as if she was actually considering it. She felt a pair of eyes on her, looking aside to see Sam staring at her with brows raised, lips parted, and eyes wide in surprise. She quickly cleared her throat and pursed her lips together, shaking her head as she narrowed her eyes on Dean. "Enough," she'd huffed with annoyance, giving him a stern look as she focused on the book in her hands again as they traveled towards Sleepy Hollow, New York.

A man by the name of Luke Wallace had died the day before Halloween after swallowing four razor blades (two on the floor, one in his stomach, and another stuck in his throat) while eating some candy his wife had just brought home from the store. It was incredibly strange——perhaps their kind of strange.

Birdie was more than willing to go along with the brothers to check it out, letting Hiro know that she probably wouldn't be able to get back to get her things until the next day, or even a few days later. He assured her that that was fine and he would hold onto her things for her for however long she needed. Then Birdie and the boys were off again, Dean teasing Sam and Birdie about dressing up in matching costumes for Halloween. It usually annoyed Birdie as he did it almost every single year, but this time she was thankful for the comments as it provided a nice distraction. It probably wasn't the wisest thing to ignore her emotions or to try not to think of Kaiya, yet she couldn't stop herself from throwing herself into what she knew best to ignore her feelings; it was what Serena taught her to do.

By morning, Dean seemed to stop, putting on his "serious face" as he and Sam spoke with Mrs. Wallace while Birdie talked with the police down at the station. She wasn't there for very long, finding out that they knew just as much as Birdie and the boys did. She thanked the officers for their time and bid them a goodbye, walking down the street until she made it to her motorcycle. She climbed on and headed back to the motel, finding only Sam inside their shared room.

Birdie set her helmet and keys on the table, knitting her brows together. "Where's Dean?" she wondered, slipping off her shoes before plopping down on the other end of the couch that Sam was seated on. His computer was open on the coffee table, some books open in front of him and stacked on top of each other. Something that looked like a small hex bag was a few inches away, the cloth folded together.

Sam sighed. "My guess? Getting food, or beer."

"Maybe if we're lucky he'll get both," Birdie said, brightly grinning at Sam. He laughed out a scoff, rolling his eyes as a small smile appeared on his lips. "Please tell me you guys had some luck with the wife. I didn't get anything at the station."

Sam reached forward, picking up the small bag to hold it out for Birdie where part of the cloth was partially exposing a piece of what looked like a. . .Birdie wasn't even sure what it was. "Found this."

Birdie raised a brow, eyes flicking between the cloth and Sam. "Are you actually wantin' me to touch that?"

"I'm sure you've touched stranger things before," Sam said. Birdie scoffed with offense. Sam rolled his eyes and tossed the hex bag back on the table. "Fine. Dean found it behind the fridge while I talked to the wife."

"We're dealing with a witch?" Birdie asked, scrunching up her nose with distaste.

"Definitely," he nodded.

"Any idea who that might be?" Birdie wondered, raising her brows with a hopeful smile.

"Not yet," Sam sadly smiled, leaning back on the couch.

"Damn," Birdie sighed, folding her arms over her chest. A moment of comfortable silence washed over the two of them, both basking in it. They each seemed to have something on their mind as the silence gave them time to think, but they were unsure how to bring it up. After a few seconds, Birdie spoke. "Did Dean seem okay to you earlier?"

Sam turned to her, brows slightly furrowed together. "What do you mean?"

"Did he seem on edge or anything?"

"You mean more than usual?"

"Enlighten me, Samuel," Birdie huffed.

Sam chuckled under his breath, nodding. "Yeah, he seemed fine. Why?"

"Just after what he saw. . ."

"You mean hallucinating Lilith?" Sam wondered. Birdie nodded, pursing her lips. She felt bad that she'd told him when it was clear Dean didn't want Sam to know, but it'd just slipped out before she could stop it. Sam promised not to say anything to Dean, though he couldn't stop thinking about it. "I think he's doing okay, I mean, as much as he can be."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

Sam's eyes lingered on her for a few seconds, seeing Birdie's gaze had fallen back on the hex bag. "You still haven't mentioned how you see Lilith, too."

At that, Birdie turned her head to face Sam. "You know how."

"To an extent, yeah," Sam said, giving Birdie a pointed look. "But that doesn't explain how you saw it, too."

Birdie shifted on the couch, tucking her legs under herself. "That-this wasn't meant to be going on this long."

"You think it's a-a side effect?"

"We knew it was a possibility."

"Bird, maybe it's time——"

The door to the motel room opened at the same moment Sam went to speak again, causing Sam and Birdie to turn their heads. Dean entered, munching on something as he stopped by the table, lazily tossing his keys on top of it. Sam's lips smacked shut, sighing to himself; that conversation would have to wait until a later time, and one Dean wouldn't be able to eavesdrop on.

Birdie's eyes watched Dean reach into his jacket pocket and pull out what looked like a piece of candy, shrugging off his jacket.

Sam raised his brows in surprise. "Really?" he asked, chuckling. Birdie playfully rolled her eyes, but a small smile was growing on her lips. "After that guy choked down all those razor blades?"

"It's fuckin' Halloween, man," Dean cheekily replied, popping the piece of candy into his mouth with a grin.

"Yeah, for us every day is Halloween," Sam retorted.

Dean sat down on the armrest of the couch closest to Sam, glancing down at his research he'd managed to go through in the time he was gone. "Don't be a downer," he said.

"He's not wrong," Birdie agreed.

Dean deadpanned, giving Birdie a sharp glare. "You guys find anything interesting?" he wondered, opting to change the subject.

"Well, we're on a witch hunt, that's for sure, but this," Sam started, motioning towards the contents of the hex bag he had set back near one of his books, "isn't your typical hex bag." Birdie tilted her head, finally able to see what was all inside the hex bag. There was a silver coin, a tiny piece of something that had been charred to a crisp, and a tiny, curled piece of a dried flower laid on the cloth.

Dean hummed, brows furrowed. "No?"

Sam picked up the dried up flower, holding it up for him to see. "Goldthread——a herb that's been extinct for two hundred years. And this. . ." He set the flower down and then picked up the aged coin. "is Celtic, and I don't mean some new age knock-off. It looks like the real deal, like 600 years old real." Dean picked up the charred piece from the bag and smelt it. Sam turned his head, noticing what was in Dean's hand. "And um . . .that is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby."

Birdie's eyes tripled in size, the immense disgust she felt inside showing on her entire expression. Dean immediately groaned, looking just as disgusted as he quickly placed the bone back on the table. "That's fuckin' gross."

"Relax man," Sam said, picking up the bone with an unfazed expression. Birdie's eyes widened again, brows raising as he held it between two fingers as he held it close to his face as he inspected it. "It's, like, at least a hundred years old."

"Oh, right, like that makes it better?" Dean retorted, shuddering.

"Sam, please," Birdie said with a pleading tone, "For the love of god stop touching it."

Sam shook his head but did as asked.

"Witches, man, they're so fuckin' skeevy," Dean said. He stood up as he spoke, plopping down in the chair a few inches away from where Birdie was sitting.

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

"This Luke Wallace——he was so vanilla that he made vanilla seem spicy." Sam scoffed at their lack of leads, glancing aside. Dean's smile faded as well, shaking his head. "I can't find any reason why somebody would want this guy dead."

Birdie stood up from the couch, making her way towards her bag. "Everyone's got skeletons in their closet," she said. "We'll just have to find out what his was."

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

It was nearing 7:00 P.M. when Dean overheard that a Halloween party had gone wrong when he was down at the gas station. He returned to the Moonlight Motel to tell Sam and Birdie, finding Birdie was already fast asleep on one of the beds with the blanket tucked around her. Sam was laying on the opposite bed with a book in his hand, his eyes skimming over the words until he heard Dean return.

Birdie had only heard bits and pieces of their conversation as she'd awoken halfway through, but it sounded as if another person had died. She was expecting one of them to try and wake her so they could all go check it out, but it didn't come. Instead, she heard Sam quietly tell Dean to leave her alone and to let her sleep. Dean didn't respond, though Birdie could already see the confusion on his face. She still didn't move and remained perfectly still as they changed into their suits and then left.

She quietly sighed to herself once they were gone and rolled onto her back, pushing the covers down to her lower stomach. The room was eerily silent, not even the heater making a sound as it warmed up the tiny room. Complete darkness surrounded Birdie, not being able to see anything suddenly making her feel uneasy. She rolled onto her side and pushed herself to sit up, legs dangling over the side of the bed. She pushed the rest of the blanket off of her and slipped out of the bed, padding her way into the bathroom just as she felt a strange tingle in her lower back.

She quickly flicked on the light switch, shutting the door behind her. She pursed her lips and turned her back towards the mirror, slightly raising up her shirt. She peered over her shoulder at her reflection, frowning as she saw the faint bruising in the middle of her back. 'How much longer is this gonna last?' she wondered, huffing as she dropped her hands down and tiredly glared into the mirror.

Her reflection angrily peered back at her, but the longer she stared at herself, she noticed how her expression was slowly beginning to change. She twisted her lips and stood up straight, seeing her reflection softly smiling at her despite the prominent scowl she felt still on her lips.

It was own features staring back at her, but it wasn't her.

It wasn't Birdie.

"What's the problem this time?" her reflection asked.

"It's taking too long," Birdie sharply replied. "You and——"

"That wasn't for certain," he reflection interjected, giving her a stern look. "Your injuries were quite severe——your body still needs time to properly heal."

"But it's been months, F——"

"I'm doing the best I can, Birdie," her reflection said. Birdie let out a huff, angrily rolling her eyes. Her reflection slightly frowned, tilting her head. "I am. You just have to trust me on this." Birdie just narrowed her eyes, clearly not pleased with how the conversation was going. "I've kept you alive this long, haven't I?"

"I guess," Birdie grumbled. "But I could do without you commenting on everything. It's getting very annoying."

Her reflection smiled, innocently shrugging her shoulders. "Sorry, I'll try to keep it to a minimum from now on."

"How about nonexistent?"

"Some of my comments have kept you and those boys you love so much alive. You should be grateful." Birdie shook her head with frustration, glancing down at the sink. "I'll be quiet unless you need me, okay?"

"Okay," Birdie murmured, heavily sighing.

Her reflection smiled, tilting her head to the side. "But before you go and I'm forced to listen to your rambling thoughts again, how're Sam and Dean doing?"

Birdie raised a brow. "You're in my head, shouldn't you already know?"

Her reflection glared. "Humor me, Birdie. We don't get to chat like this very often."

"They're doing good, all things considered."

"That's excellent," her reflection brightly grinned. "Good things are happening, Birdie. I can feel it."

"How the hell can you feel it but I can't?"

Her reflection chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. "It won't be much longer till they're back now——oh, and Bird?"

"What?"

"Keep looking after Sam," her reflection grinned. "You're doing great."

And just like that, before Birdie even had a chance to respond, her reflection returned to normal and she was left staring at herself——only herself.

A little over an hour later Sam and Dean returned. Birdie was wide awake, laying on the bed with a book splayed out in front of her. She gave the boys a smile as they walked in, but it faltered when Dean tossed something at her and it hit her in the forehead. She grumbled and tilted her head, jaw dropping when she saw it was a hex bag similar to the one found at the first scene. "Did you just——I should kick your ass."

"Bring it on, toots," Dean said, smirking and holding his hands out at his sides as if beckoning Birdie to make a move at him. Birdie narrowed her eyes and remained laid on the bed. Dean smirked. "That's what I thought."

Sam chuckled. "This one was under a couch in the basement——same room where where a girl died apple bobbing."

Birdie heavily sighed, shaking her head. Sam shrugged off his blazer and picked up a flannel, making his way towards the bathroom. Her eyes lingered on him as he slipped out of sight, turning her gaze back to her book.

Dean gazed at her for a few seconds, snickering to himself as he tossed his blazer over one of the chairs by the table. "Birdie, can I ask you something?"

Birdie lifted her head at the question, watching the older man sit down at the table. "That depends," she said, suspiciously narrowing her eyes. "What about?"

"Why. . .why aren't you against Sam's——his-his——"

"Psychic bullshit?" Birdie asked, unable to stop herself from using the term Dean had used to describe Sam's abilities. She immediately felt guilty about it, face softening when she saw Dean's own expression falter. "Dean, I'm sorry. . ."

Dean shook his head, making a face as he shrugged his shoulder. "No, no, you're right. That's what I called it." Birdie sat up, closing the book as her gaze remained focused on Dean. Dean sighed, leaning back in the chair. "Why are you supporting this? Nothing good can come from this, you have to know that, Bird."

"Honestly, I wasn't too sure about it at first," Birdie said, giving Dean a small smile. "I mean, I never saw what he could do before. I just heard about his visions and everything, but then. . ."

"Let me guess——Ruby?" Dean presumed.

Birdie reluctantly nodded her head. "She helped us, Dean. I know you don't like it or understand, but if it wasn't for her. . ."

Sam quietly stepped out of the bathroom, now dressed in a flannel and a pair of jeans with his suit folded in his hands. His hair was pushed out of his face, slightly jutted out at the ends near the base of his neck. He looked from Birdie and over to Dean, obviously having overheard their conversation, or at least part of it. "All yours," Sam told Dean, nudging his head towards the bathroom as he walked towards the opposite bed.

Dean heavily sighed as he stood up from the table, his eyes meeting Birdie's for just a few seconds as he walked past. Birdie's eyes followed him, moving towards Sam as Dean shut the door behind him.

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, grabbing his computer from off the coffee table. Then he set his suit on top of his bag, plopping down on the bed beside Birdie. Birdie picked up her own book and scooted back towards the headrest, spotting the hex bag near the edge of the bed. She scoffed and crawled forward, picking up. She tilted her head at Sam, holding it up. "You wanna have the honor of lookin' through this shit, too?"

Sam snickered, holding his hand out. Birdie giggled and tossed it over to him. "How're you feeling?" he asked, curious eyes pinned to Birdie.

"I'm alright," she answered, shrugging and placing the book in her lap. "I think that little nap helped."

"Good," Sam smiled.

Birdie nodded in agreement and leaned back again, only lifting her head when she heard the bathroom door open. Dean exited, now out of his suit and in a flannel and jeans. He sat his suit on the coffee table near his bag, sighing to himself as he walked back to the table where his computer was placed. "So let me guess," Birdie said, looking back and forth between the Winchesters, "Research time?"

Dean smiled, shooting her a wink. "Bingo."

Birdie scrunched up her nose, grumbling under her breath. "I was hoping I was wrong."

"Not this time, Bird."

Birdie pursed her lips and flipped open her book as Sam and Dean opened up their laptops, the three beginning to get back to one of their——Dean and Birdie's specifically——least favorite things about dealing with monsters: research.

Dean was still seated at the table with his computer, Sam and Birdie on the beds with more books spread out around them. Birdie was laid on her stomach like earlier, her eyes raking over the never ending pages. There were some food wrappers on the table near Dean after they took a break to get food, an open beer next to his computer while Sam and Birdie had theirs on the bedside table between them. There was a half-eaten carton of french fries on the table as well, some crumbled burger wrappers about to fall off the edge. They continued to do research as they ate, hoping that by being fed they would be more sharp. They'd gone round and round, each lead they found turning out to be nothing more than a dead end.

Sam sat up after a few minutes, intently looking at a book he was currently reading. "I'm telling you guys, both these vics are squeaky clean," Dean said, looking up from the computer. "There is no reason for a wicked bitch payback."

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

Dean raised his brows. "Wow, insightful."

"Care to elaborate, Sammy?" Birdie asked, raising a brow in his direction.

"Maybe this witch isn't working the grudge, maybe they're working a spell. Check this out," Sam said, pointing to a page in the book he held. "Three blood sacrifices over three days——the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest," he read, standing up from the bed. He moved, sitting on the bed next to Birdie, glancing between her and Dean as he handed Birdie the book. Birdie sat up with a frown, taking the book into her hands. "Celtic Calendar, the final day of the final harvest is October 31st."

"Halloween?" Birdie frowned, eyes slightly widening.

"Exactly."

Birdie huffed and handed the book back to Sam, watching him hand it to Dean next. He moved his computer aside, putting the book in its place. "What exactly are the, uh, blood sacrifices for?" Dean wondered, eyes skimming over the pages.

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

"Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"Dean, Samhain is the fucking origin of Halloween," Sam explained. "The Celts believe that October 31st was the one night of the year when the veil was the thinnest between the living and the dead, and it was Samhain's night. I mean, masks were put on to hide from him, sweets left on doorsteps to appease him, faces carved into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcized centuries ago."

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

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

"Well, fuck," Birdie huffed.

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

"Dean, this is fucking serious."

"I am fuckinh serious," Dean replied, looking at Sam with a stern expression.

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

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

"Tomorrow night."

Birdie scoffed, standing up from the bed. "Of course."

Dean peered down at the book, gazing down at an image of a demon standing on a heap of bodies, holding a severed head in his hand. "Well it sure is a lot of death and destruction for one demon."

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

Birdie frowned, sitting on the edge of the table. "Raising what?"

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

"So we're talkin' ghosts."

"Yeah."

"Zombies." Sam hummed in agreement. "Leprechauns?"

"Dean——"

Birdie tilted her head, raising her brows. "Leprechauns?"

"Those little dudes are fuckin' scary, Bird. Small hands."

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

"It's gonna be a slaughterhouse."

"Not if we stop it first," Birdie said, flashing the brothers a smile.

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

Dean was parked outside the Wallace residence the next morning——Halloween, to be exact—-eating candy as he waited for something or someone as a sign that would explain how the two deaths were connected. Sam and Birdie were back at the motel still, Birdie sound asleep on the bed while Sam was looking more into Samhain. He was surprised she hadn't woken up yet, but it wasn't often she got a lot of sleep and he wasn't about to disturb that.

Sam sighed to himself and checked his phone, finding that there weren't any missed calls or text messages from Dean, or anyone else for that matter. He flipped it closed and stuffed it into his pocket, stealing a glance towards Birdie's sleeping figure. Her back was turned to him, the blanket just barely shifting with each breath she took. Her hair was splayed out behind her, some loose strands fallen across her face. Sam tiredly smiled to himself, but it faltered when Birdie suddenly sat up, her frantic eyes darting around the motel room.

"Bird?" Sam asked, stepping towards the bed with concern. Birdie spotted him, sucking in a sharp breath as he sat down beside her. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I, uh, I just had a really weird dream," she sighed, tiredly rubbing her eyes.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Birdie quietly sighed to herself, letting her hands fall into her lap. Then she shook her head, offering Sam a tiny smile. "Uh, I mean, it was just really weird. I'm not sure if I-I can actually explain what happened."

"You could try," Sam said, tilting his head to one side.

Birdie playfully rolled her eyes, her smile still etched on her lips. "Thank you, but I'm okay. Really."

Sam returned the smile, nodding his head. "Alright. I'm, uh, I'm gonna call Dean and see how he's doing."

"Where is he?" Birdie wondered.

Sam stood up, stepping towards the table before facing Birdie. "He went to stakeout the Wallace's place. Hopefully he's found somethin' by now."

Birdie nodded. She pushed the blanket off herself and slipped out of the bed as Sam pressed the phone to his ear, making her way towards the counter where a half-eaten container of Oreos were placed. She picked them up, glancing over her shoulder. "Hey, put him on speaker if he answers," she said, grabbing a few Oreos.

Sam nodded and pressed the speaker button, allowing Birdie to hear Dean say hey.

"How's it going?" Sam asked, turning to face Birdie. She walked closer, munching on one of the cookies.

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

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

"Yeah, well I hope we find 'em soon cause I'm starting to cramp like a——" Dean suddenly stopped, his silence causing Sam and Birdie to share a look. "Son of a bitch."

"Quit whining," Sam scoffed.

"No, Sam, I mean, son of a bitch."

"What? What is it?" Birdie demanded to know.

"Sam, you remember that cheerleader we interviewed? Tracy Davis?"

"Yeah?"

"You guys do some digging on her. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Dean tossed the motel room key onto the table a little over fifteen minutes later. Sam was lying sideways on the bed with his laptop open, Birdie next to him near the head of the bed with her own laptop as well. "So, our apple-bobbing cheerleader?" Sam asked.

"Tracy?" Sam nodded with a hum, watching Dean walk towards the edge of the bed. "The Wallaces' babysitter. Told me she never even heard of Luke Wallace."

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

Dean started to shrug off his jacket and Birdie shifted, letting out a sigh as she glanced over at him. "Yeah, well, if you were a six-hundred-year-old hag, wouldn't you wanna make it a little less obvious?" she asked.

Dean sat down on the opposite bed, shrugging his shoulders as if in agreement with Birdie. "Well, we did some digging on Tracy——apparently she got into a violent altercation with one of her teachers, got suspended from school," Sam said handing Dean his laptop to let him see what they'd discovered. On the screen was the report of the attack along with Tracy's basic information schools were required to have on record. A bright red note was at the top that said she was suspended, her smiling picture not at all what Birdie had imagined the girl to look like.

"You find out which teacher?" Dean asked, handing Sam back his computer.

"Don Harding," Birdie answered, turning her computer around so Dean could see a picture of the teacher. "Teaches Ceramics 101."

"What do you say the three of us pay him a visit?" Dean wondered.

"Fuck yeah," Birdie immedietely agreed, slamming her computer shut and setting it off to the side. "I think I might actually lose my mind if I don't get out of this room by tonight."

Dean falsely cooed, watching her move towards her back. "Aw, we wouldn't want that, would we, Sammy?"

"No, never," Sam answered, dimples poking out as he grinned.

Birdie narrowed her eyes, flipping both Sam and Dean off. Then she picked up her bag, mocking them under her breath as she made her way into the bathroom to change while they simply laughed. "Dickheads."

"We heard that!" Dean called out.

"Good, assholes!" Birdie shouted back.

Their laughter resonated through the door and Birdie huffed, shaking her head as she felt a small smile appear on her lip. She set her bag down on the toilet lid and rummaged through her bag until she found one of her few suits. She set the clothes on the sink and changed out of her sweater and pajama pants, smoothing down her blazer with her hands as she examined herself in the mirror. Her eyes involuntarily flickered back to her features, doing a double when she saw her reflection wink at her. She tilted her head, tilting it in the other direction when it happened again. She shook her head, giving her reflection a small smile as she turned on her heel. She reached into her bag again, pulling out a small makeup bag. She set it on the edge of the counter and started doing her makeup, thankful that her reflection wasn't making any expressions all on its own. She finished in just a few minutes, option for some mascara, eyeshadow and lipgloss.

Lookin' good, Bird.

Birdie playfully rolled her eyes, the corner of her lip creeping upwards as she put her makeup bag in her duffel bag. "Thanks," she murmured.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped out, noticing Sam and Dean had changed while she was in the bathroom. They were both dressed in black suits, ties secured around their necks and tucked under the collars of their white button-ups. She had to give them credit, they did clean up nice when needed.

"You gonna keep starin' at Sam or are we gonna head out?"

Birdie blinked, eyes widening when she realized she had in fact been staring at Sam. A small smirk was displayed on his lips, sharing a subtle glance at Dean. Birdie felt her face flush, quickly turning around to set her bag down. "I got better things to do than stare at Sam, or you," Birdie retorted.

"Yeah, sure you do," Dean snickered.

Birdie huffed and moved towards the bed to grab her phone. She snatched it up while she sent Dean a glare, stuffing it into the inside pocket of her blazer. "Are we leaving or what?"

"You done checkin' Sammy out or what?"

"Fuck you, Dean," Birdie said, making her way towards the door.

"You're not denying it," Dean said, his and Sam's eyes following her out of the room.

Birdie halted in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder. "Why would I deny it?" She continued to walk away after that, not giving Sam or Dean room to respond.

Dean's jaw dropped, head immediately snapping in Sam's direction to see a similar expression on his face. "You're seriously gonna tell me there's nothing going on with you two?"

Sam sighed to himself, shaking his head. "Let's just head out. She might leave without us."

"She wouldn't. . ." Dean's voice quieted, catching the look Sam shot at him. Then he nodded, snatching his keys off the table while making sure he already had his phone. "Yeah, let's go."

The two left their room and headed to the Impala, finding Birdie patiently waiting against the car. When she spotted the brothers she smiled, gaze focusing on Sam. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?" he wondered.

"I call shotgun."

Sam scoffed and held his hands out at his sides while Dean snickered, walking towards his car. Birdie just cheekily smiled and stepped up to the front seat, giggling as Sam moved towards the back.

"Better luck next time, Sammy," Dean said.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam grumbled, begrudgingly climbing into the backseat. Dean and Birdie slipped into the front seats, relaxing into the seats. Dean sighed to himself and started up the ignition, stealing a glance in the rear view mirror at Sam with amusement.

Birdie glanced aside, chuckling when she saw all of the candy wrappers in between her and Dean. "I hope this wasn't all your doing," she said, raising a brow at the oldest Winchester.

Dean looked aside, giving Birdie a pointed look. "'Course not," he said. Birdie just hummed in response and buckled up, clearly not believing Dean. "Where to?"

"Back to high school," Sam said. "Desmond High School. It's just around the corner from the park, I think."

Birdie sighed, peering out of the window. "Oh, joy."

Dean chuckled, sharing a small smile with Birdie as he began to drive down the street. She reached forward, smile enlarging when a Styx song started to fill the car. Dean scrunched up his nose and glanced aside at her, shaking his head. However, he made no move to change it like Sam was expecting him to do. He smiled to himself and leaned into the backseat, his eyes skimming over the buildings that passed them by.

In just a few minutes they arrived at the Desmond High School. Dean parked near the main entrance, the trio getting out at the same time. They entered the school, flashing their badges to the receptionist in the main office with Dean requesting to speak with Don Harding. The receptionist easily believed their lie——partially because of Dean's cheeky smile——and made them visitors passes and allowed them to enter the school. Then she gave them directions to the ceramics room——which wasn't too far, thankfully.

Dean walked ahead of Sam and Birdie as they checked out some artwork on display just outside the classroom, spotting some handmade masks that were placed on a rack near the entrance, even more daunting looking masks making their way to the ceiling in the classroom. Dean noticed a particular demonic looking one a few steps ahead, focusing on the realistic details of it as if it reminded him of something.

"Bring back memories?" Sam curiously wondered, him and Birdie quietly walking up behind Dean.

Dean turned at Sam's voice, confusion written on his face. "What do you mean?"

"Being a teenager, all that angst," Sam answered, looking at the masks on the wall. Birdie couldn't help but scrunch up her nose, noticing how some of the masks were incredibly realistic; it made her feel like she was truly looking an actual monster in the eye.

Dean sighed, faintly nodding his head. "Oh."

Birdie tilted her head, looking aside at Dean. "What'd you think he meant by that?"

Dean nonchalantly shrugged. "Nothin'," he chuckled. He turned his head, watching a student attempt to put a large bong-shaped piece into a kiln. "Now that brings back memories."

Sam and Birdie followed his gaze, spotting the boy. "Dude, I need a bigger kiln," the student said, partially frowning as he pulled his "artwork" back out of the too small kiln. Birdie's jaw dropped when she realized what it was. As alarming as it might've been to see, he'd actually done an amazing job at shaping the bong.

A teacher entered the door behind Birdie and the boys, carrying a box with a mug on top of it——presumably the teacher that Tracy had attacked, Mr. Don Harding. "You three wanted to talk to me?"

"Ah, Mr. Harding," Sam greeted the man.

"Oh, please, Don," Mr. Harding——Don——chuckled, holding his hand out for Sam.

Sam took the man's hand, firmly shaking it. "Okay, Don."

Don reached for Dean's hand next, a smile still displayed on his lips. "Even my students call me Don."

"Yeah, we get it, Don," Dean said. The man smiled, shaking Birdie's hand last. Then he walked past the trio, stopping by a large table where he placed the box and his mug. Birdie and the boys reached into their inside pockets, pulling out their badges as Don faced them. "I'm agent Geddy, this is Agent Lee, and Agent Young. We just had a few questions about, uh, Tracy Davis."

"Uh, yeah, Tracy, uh, bright kid, loads of talent," Don said, frowning as he thought of his former student. "It's a shame she got suspended."

"Uh, you two had a. . .uh, violent altercation," Dean said.

Don breathed out a laugh, tucking his hands in the pockets of his pants. "Yeah, she exploded. If Principal Murrow hadn't walked by when he did, Tracy would have clawed my eyes out."

"Why?" Sam requested to know.

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

Dean turned and indicated towards the angry masks hanging on the wall and the ceiling. "More disturbing, than-than, uh, those guys?"

Don softly chuckled, leaning against the table. "She would cover page after page with these bizarre cryptic symbols, and then there were the drawings——detailed images of killings, gory, primitive, and she would depict herself in the middle of them, participating."

Birdie glanced aside, catching Dean's gaze. That wasn't a good sign. "What kind of symbols?" Sam quesitoned, pulling a small plastic bag out and holding it out towards Don. "Uh, anything like this?"

Don looked down, seeing the silver coin from one of the hex bags inside. "Yeah, yeah, I think that might have been one of them."

"Do you know where Tracy is now?" Birdie questioned.

"I would imagine her apartment," Don answered.

"Her apartment?" Dean repeated.

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

The three shared a look, thanking Don for his time. They exited the classroom, walking side by side in the direction they'd come from. Dean slowed down beside the Impala once they made it outside, Sam and Birdie doing the same.

"What's our next move?"

"We could split up," Birdie suggested, leaning her arms on the roof of Baby. "Check her apartment or any other place she might go to see if we can find her, or her friends——if she even has any."

"You'd go with me, right?" Dean asked, cheekily grinning.

Birdie playfully rolled her eyes, scoffing under her breath. "I'll go with either of you." Go with Sam. "But we should probably change first."

"Yeah," Dean nodded, opening his door.

"Oh, and Birdie?" Sam aked, causing her to look over with her brows raised. A twinkle appeared in Sam's eyes, a smirk spread on his lips. "Shotgun."

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

Dean already knew that Birdie would go with Sam. But, he didn't mind it. In fact he actually preferred it that way this time; it was just more time for them to spend together and possibly realize that there was some spark between them. And as he parked a few doors down from their motel room, he was hoping to notice something different between Sam and Birdie; and he did, but he couldn't quite tell what was different as they met him in front of Baby. As curious as he was, though, now wasn't the time to pry.

"So?" Dean asked, hoping Sam and Birdie had had better luck than he did after they'd split up to search for Tracy.

"Tracy was nowhere we could find," Sam answered. "Any luck with her friends?"

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

"Maybe she did," Birdie huffed, adjusting the sleeves of her top. Dean sighed, tilting his head slightly. He walked over to the sidewalk, Sam and Birdie following suit. Their room was just up ahead, the door coming into view as they walked closer. Birdie noticed a little boy dressed as an astronaut was heading in their direction, but she didn't pay much attention to him.

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

"Yes, thank you, Sam," Dean sharply replied.

Birdie tilted her head as the astronaut boy came up to them, holding out his bucket that already had some candy in it. "Trick or treat."

"This is a motel," Dean said, pointing towards the building next to them.

"So?" the boy asked, raising his brows.

"So we don't have any candy."

"No, we have a ton in the, uh——" Sam looked back and pointed toward the Impala, stopping when Birdie whacked his arm and shook her head. That was their candy.

"We did, but it's gone," Dean interjected.

Sam turned towards Dean, giving him a look. "You didn't," he huffed.

"It was mostly him, but then I took the rest," Birdie quietly confessed, making sure the little boy didn't overhear her.

Dean innocently shrugged when Sam looked at him again, facing the little boy who looked unimpressed with all three of the adults.

"Sorry kid, we can't help ya."

"I want candy," the little boy said.

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

The little boy hatefully glared at Dean, narrowing his eyes. Birdie just shook her head and followed Sam back to the motel. "We're gonna make him buy more, right?" Birdie asked, standing beside Sam as he unlocked the door.

"'Course," he chuckled, sharing a small smile with Birdie. "But you did eat some too——"

"I had, like, maybe five pieces," she defended.

Sam chuckled and unlocked the door, stepping inside. He spotted a figure sitting on one of the beds, immediately reaching for his gun. Birdie's eyes widened when she saw and she mimicked him, training her gun on the bald and dark skinned near the far window as Sam had his on the figure that was seated on one of the beds, his back facing them.

"Who are you?!" Sam harshly shouted, quickly moving closer with his face hardened. Birdie narrowed her eyes, tightening her grip on her gun as neither of the figures moved.

Dean rushed in at the sound of Sam's shout, heart already thundering in his chest with pure panic. "Sam, Birdie, wait!" he shouted, standing in between them. "It's Castiel." Dean put his hands on Sam and Birdie's guns, pushing them down. "The angel."

Birdie's eyes widened, feeling a sudden surge of panic fill her entire body.

Why the hell is he here?

Dean spotted another figure in the room standing by the window, eyes looking the man up and down. "Him, I don't know."

Birdie's eyes closely watched the angel, Castiel, stand up from the bed and walk towards them. Sam looked at Castiel in wonder and a smile crossed his face.

"Hello, Sam," Castiel greeted, his voice more gruff than Birdie was expecting for an angel. He turned his head, his sharp blue eyes piercing through Birdie. "Hello, Birdie."

"Oh my God," Sam breathed out, face falling as he realized what he'd just said. "Er, uh, I didn't mean to——shit, uh, sorry," Sam stammered. Birdie slowly blinked at him, sharing a confused look with Dean. "It's an honor, really, I-I've heard a lot about you." Sam stepped forward and held out his hand to shake Castiel's. Dean went and closed the door to their room while Birdie remained at Sam's side, her narrowed eyes still focused on Castiel with suspicion.

Castiel looked at Sam's hand like he wasn't sure what to do with it, brows knitted together. Sam shook his hand out towards Castiel a little, the angel finally understanding and putting his hand into Sam's. "And I, you." Castiel said, placing his other hand over Sam's. "Sam Winchester——the boy with the demon blood." Sam blinked, head tilting slightly as his smile dimmed. Birdie narrowed her eyes, stealing another glance at the man by the window, but he continued gazing out of the window as if they weren't there. "Glad to see you've ceased your extracurricular activities."

"Let's keep it that way," the figure by the window said.

"Yeah, okay, chuckles," Dean sharply said, standing on the other side of Sam. Then he turned his attention to Castiel. "Who's your friend?"

"This raising of Samhain——have you stopped it?"

"Why?"

"Dean, have you located the witch?" Castiel asked, looking directly at Dean.

"Yes, we've located the witch."

"And is the witch dead?"

"No, but——" Sam started.

"We know who it is," Dean finished. Birdie shifted, folding her arms over her chest.

"Apparently the witch knows who you are, too," Castiel said, walking towards the bedside table where he picked up a hex bag to show the trio. "This was inside the wall of your room. If we hadn't found it, surely one or all of you would be dead. Do you know where the witch is now?"

The three exchanged a look. Well this outta be good. "We're working on it."

"That's unfortunate," Castiel said, looking towards the man by the window.

"What do you care?" Dean wanted to know.

The man by the window raised his head, but he remained quiet and eyes trained on the world outside. Castiel turned back to Dean. "The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals."

Birdie scoffed under her breath. "Fuckin' perfect."

Dean tilted his head slightly. "So this is about your buddy Lucifer."

"Lucifer is no friend of ours," the man by the window said.

Birdie rolled her eyes, huffing under her breath. "It's just an expression," Dean said.

"Lucifer cannot rise," Castiel said, moving to stand in front of three hunters. "The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs."

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

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

"Okay, well we already know who she is," Sam said. "So, if we work together——"

"Enough of this," the other man interjected.

"Okay, who the fuck are you and why should I fucking care?" Dean demanded.

The figure turned from the window and looked at Dean.

Castiel heavily sighed. "This is Uriel, he's what you might call a. . .specialist."

Uriel walked towards them, stopping a few steps away from them. He had a round face and dark brown eyes that burned into Birdie into the boys. He was taller than Birdie, but that didn't stop her from returning his sharp glare.

"What kind of specialist?" Dean asked. Castiel and Uriel ignored the question, sharing a look with each other. Dean noticed, suspiciously narrowing his eyes. "What are you gonna do?"

"You——all of you, you need to leave this town immediately," Castiel said.

"Why?" Birdie asked, her voice sharper than she intended for.

"Because we're about to destroy it."

"You what?" Birdie asked with wide eyes, Sam and Dean exchanging a worried glance.

"So this is your plan——you're gonna smite the whole fuckin' town?" Dean asked, holding his hands out at his sides.

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

"There are a thousand people here," Sam stressed.

"One thousand two hundred fourteen," Uriel said.

"And you're willing to kill them all?" Sam asked in disbelief.

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

Birdie couldn't help but scoff. This was unbelievable.

What the hell kind of angels are they? None like any I've ever heard about before.

"Look, I understand this is regrettable," Castiel said.

Dean shook his head, sharply looking at Castiel. "Regrettable?"

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

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

"It's the lives of one thousand against the lives of six billion," Castiel replied. Sam looked stunned, sharing a look with Birdie. She wanted to speak, but she didn't want either of the angels to overhear her. "There's a bigger picture here."

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

Castiel stepped closer to stand in front of Dean. Birdie narrowed her eyes and shifted her posture, stopping herself from walking closer. "Lucifer cannot rise," Castiel said. "He does and Hell rises with him. Is that something that you're willing to risk?"

Dean shifted like he was going to speak, but Sam beat him to it. "We'll stop this witch before she summons anyone." Birdie focused her gaze on Castiel, noticing the way he was staring at Dean as if trying to silently make him see his side, but Dean shook his head and looked away. "Your seal won't be broken and no one has to die."

"We're wasting time with these mud monkeys."

"Excuse me, motherf——" Sam blinked in surprise, quickly reaching out to stop Birdie as she went to move towards Uriel. The angel just raised his brows, looking amused. Birdie puffed out her cheeks, shooting Sam a sharp glare. He tilted his head and Birdie relaxed, letting out a shaky breath.

"You should be more careful, Birdie," Uriel said, nodding toward the younger woman. "You do not want to tangle with an angel."

That mother——

Castiel turned away from Dean, his movement capturing Birdie and Uriel's attention. "I'm sorry, but we have our orders."

"No, you can't do this. You-you're angels," Sam interjected. "I mean aren't you supposed to——you're supposed to show mercy."

"Says who?" Uriel smiled, tilting his head in amusement.

"We have no choice," Castiel said, his back facing Birdie and the boys.

"Of course you have a choice," Dean said, his fuming eyes burning into the back of Castiel's head. "I mean, come on, what? You've never questioned a shit order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of fuckin' hammers?"

"Look, even if you can't understand it, have faith. The plan is just," Castiel replied, looking over his shoulder at Dean.

"How can you even say that?" Sam asked.

"Because it comes from heaven," Castiel answered, turning on his heel to fully face them. "That makes it just."

"Didn't Lucifer come from——" Birdie's lips smacked shut, pursing her lips together when Uriel's sharp eyes snapped towards her, taunting her to keep her mouth moving.

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

"Tell me something, Dean," Castiel said. "When your father gave you an order, didn't you obey?"

Dean shifted, features hardening with the mention of his father. "Well, sorry boys, it looks like the plans have changed."

"You think you can stop us?" Uriel questioned with raised brows.

"No," Dean truthfully replied, shaking his head. Dean slowly started to walk towards Uriel, speaking as he did so. "But if you're gonna smite this whole town. . .then you're gonna have to smite us with it because we are not fuckin' leaving." Dean glanced over his shoulder at Castiel, then looked back at Uriel. "See, you went to the trouble of busting me out of Hell. I figure I'm worth somethin' to the man upstairs." Uriel continued to stare straight at Dean, lips unmoving though his rage was nearly spewing out of his ears. "You wanna waste me? Go ahead. See how he digs that."

"I will drag you out of here myself," Uriel said.

"Yeah, but you'll have to kill me. Then we're back to the same problem," Dean said. "I mean, come on, you're gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch? Sounds to me like you're compensatin' for something." Dean turned back and looked at Castiel, realizing that he wasn't going to get anywhere with Uriel. "We can do this. We will find that witch, and we will stop the summoning."

"Castiel! I will not let these people——"

"Enough!" Castiel held his hand up at Uriel, signaling him to be quiet. Castiel stared at Dean for a second, thinking it over. "I suggest you move quickly."

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He beckoned Sam and Birdie to follow, one hand nudging Birdie forward when she kept her glare focused on the angels. She stole a glance over her shoulder as she walked towards the door, seeing that Uriel and Castiel were closely watching them leave. She huffed in annoyance and lifted her hand, giving them the middle finger.

"Damn it, Bird. Now's not the time," Dean huffed, pushing her hand down and shoving her out of the room. She grumbled under her breath and started to walk towards the Impala, halting in her track when she saw it was now splattered with eggs. Sam and Dean seemed to notice as well, only one person coming to mind as to who would've done it. Birdie pursed her lips together and slowly walked over to the car as Dean walked to the driver's side. Sam opened the passenger side door, trying to hide his amusement. Birdie glanced around the parking lot, looking towards Dean who appeared as if he was about to explode.

"ASTRONAUT!"

Birdie snickered and slipped into the backseat, automatically moving to sit in the middle space. Dean took a seat next to Sam in the front, angrily slamming his door shut. Birdie pursed her lips together, peering at Sam who had a glum expression looming on his features, and Dean noticed as well. "What?" Dean asked.

"Nothin'," Sam said, shrugging his shoulders. He sighed a few seconds later, and Birdie noticed he was now holding the hex bag that Castiel had found inside the wall. "I thought they'd be different."

"Who, the angels?" Dean wondered, raising his brows.

"Yeah."

Birdie sighed, resting her chin on the back of the front seat. "You and me both."

"Well, I tried to tell ya." Birdie glanced aside at Dean, raising a brow. "I did, Bird."

"I just. . ." Sam started, shrugging his shoulders, "I mean, I thought they'd be righteous."

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

Sam raised his brows and faced forward. "But, I mean, this is God? And Heaven?" he asked. "This is what I've been praying to?"

"Look man, I know you're into the whole God thing, you know, Jesus on a tortilla and stuff like that, but just because there's a couple of bad apples doesn't mean the whole barrel's rotten. I mean, for all we know, God hates these dicks." Dean said, his smile falling slightly. "Don't give up on this stuff, is all I'm saying. Babe Ruth was a dick, but baseball's still a beautiful game."

Sam looked over at his brother again, but he still looked disappointed. He opened up the hex bag, picking up the bone that was inside. Birdie groaned as she watched, giving him a pleading look. "Sam, would you please stop touching that?"

"Well, are we gonna figure out a way to find this witch, or are you just gonna sit there fingering your bone?" Dean asked, starting up the Impala.

"You know how much heat it would take to char a bone like this?" Sam asked.

"No," Dean and Birdie answered simultaneously.

"A shit ton," Sam said, looking from Dean and over to Birdie. "I mean, more than a fire or some kitchen oven."

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

Sam lifted his head, thinking for a moment. Then he turned his head, a small smile on his lips. "It means we make a stop."

Dean walked over to a kiln in Don Harding's classroom at the high school with ease as there were little to no students inside the building, lifting it open to peer inside while Sam and Birdie went to Don's desk, opening up all the drawers. "So Tracy used the kiln to char the bone," Dean said, walking towards the desk when he didn't find anything inside the kiln. "What's the big deal?"

Sam continued rifling through the stuff on Don's desk as Birdie moved to check out the table behind the desk. There were some ceramics sitting on it, most of them sporting halloween-themed designs that caused Birdie to shudder. "Dean, that hex bag turned up in our room, not after we talked to Tracy——"

"But after we talked to the teacher."

Sam crouched down, noticing a bottom drawer of Don's desk was locked with a latch. "Hey——"

Birdie returned to the desk, noticing the latch, too. Sam stood up, scanning the room for something to use to help him open it. He saw a hammer on the table behind them and quickly grabbed it. Then he crouched down again, hitting the lock until it finally broke free. His hand was quick to open the drawer where they saw tiny bones stored inside a bowl; one was charred.

Sam straightened up, a queasiness feeling bubbling in his and the others' stomachs. "My God, those are all from children."

"And I'm guessing he's not saving them for the dog."

"I'll, uh, yeah, I'm just gonna——" Birdie didn't finish her sentence and jogged out of the room.

"Wait​​——"

"Birdie!"

She quickly made her way to the bathrooms, hand covering her mouth until she was able to slip into one of the empty stalls. She sank to her knees, spilling out the contents of her stomach. She sighed once she stopped, looking away as she flushed the toilet. "I've seen bones before. . .why am I becoming more queasy all of a sudden?"

It's just a little side effect, but you'll be fine. I promise.

"Yeah, you've been saying that, and you also said it wouldn't be——"

Just a few more weeks at the most, Birdie. You'll just have to bare with me.

Birdie sighed but reluctantly nodded. She stood up from the floor and stepped out of the stall. She hastily washed her hands and wiped off her face before making her way into the hall. Just as she stepped out, Sam and Dean rounded the corner. "You alright?" Dean asked, his concern obvious in his voice.

Birdie gave him a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she said. "Did you find out where Don lives?"

"Yeah, you wanna head over there with us?"

"And stop the dick that put a hex bag in our wall? Uh, obviously."

"Atta girl," Dean grinned.

Soon night was upon them, hundreds of kids and teens dressed up for Halloween with a desire for candy or tricks, or maybe even both that evening. Crowds of people wandered the neighborhoods, escorting their children or younger siblings from house to house to collect as much candy as possible before the night was over. Cheers, laughter, and occasional screams filled the chilly night air, something that Birdie was used to hearing every Halloween. And as they pulled up to Don Harding's home, his neighborhood was just as filled as the rest with candy-hungry kids with sacks already halfway filled with treats.

"C'mon," Dean said, motioning for Sam and Birdie to follow as he hurried around the front of Baby. Birdie made sure her gun was tucked into her pants, some extra bullets crammed into her pockets as an extra precaution.

They hurried up to the house, noticing a light was on in the basement through a crack in one of the lower windows. Dean headed around the back of the house with Sam and Birdie, making sure that none of the wandering people noticed their strange behavior. Sam stepped in front of the back door and pulled out his lockpick set, quickly unlocking the door. Dean entered the house first, spotting a set of stairs at the end of the blackened hallway.

They quietly headed down, hearing Don's voice. He spoke in Latin, standing in front of a wooden table. An animal skull was placed in the middle of a pentagram that was drawn on the table, candles lit at every corner. A chalice was in one of his hands, a knife in the other. And, in the middle of the room was Tracy, tied to the ceiling by a rope with her feet barely touching the ground. A black cloth was tied around her mouth, keeping her quiet as she struggled to get free.

Don stepped in front of Tracy and raised the knife above his head to stab her, but three gunshots rang out from behind him.

Sam and Dean stood in front of Birdie slightly, their guns raised while Birdie tightly gripped her own. Don's body was now splayed on the floor, crimson blood pooling from the gunshot wounds. Birdie quickly ushered around Dean, pocketing her gun as she pulled out her own knife to set Tracy free. She reached up and started to cut the ties as Dean removed the cloth from the young girl's mouth. Sam kneeled beside Don as they did so, checking for a pulse; Don was dead.

Tracy grunted as the rope was cut, quickly shoving the ropes off her wrist as she breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she quickly said. "He was gonna kill me! Ugh, that sick son of a bitch. I mean, did you see what he was doing? Did you hear him? How sloppy his incantation was?" Sam, Dean and Birdie straightened up at those words, seeing all signs of fear on Tracy's face were now gone. "My boyfriend always was a little dim."

As she spoke, Birdie and the boys reached for their guns again. Tracy swiftly raised her hand, shouting an unfamiliar incantation. All three of them were flung backwards, their guns clattering away from their hands.

Birdie hissed, gritting her teeth together as she lifted her head. "Fuckin' bitch," Birdie seethed, feeling an intense pain shoot through her back.

Tracy wickedly smirked at their misery, lowering her hand. "He was gonna make me the final sacrifice." Sam and Dean softly grunted as they sat up, Tracy simply continuing to speak. Birdie's hand rubbed at her back, angered filled eyes falling on Tracy. "His idea. But now, that honor goes to him." Tracy's eyes flickered to Don's body, a disgusted expression on her face. Then she looked towards Birdie, her unsettling smirk widening. "Our master's return? The spellwork's a two man job. So, for six hundred years I had to deal with that pompous son of a bitch. Planning, preparing——make him think I actually liked him. Unbearable." Tracy kneeled down by Don and picked up the knife and chalice that had fallen from his hands. "The whole time I wanted to rip his face off. . ."

Get up, get up!

Birdie lifted her head, but that was all she could do. She stole a look at Sam and Dean, seeing their pained expressions. A shaky breath escaped her lips, eyes darting back to Tracy. Tracy dug the knife into one of Don's bullet wounds, holding the chalice up to catch the blood flow. She stole a look at Birdie and the boys, watching them writhe in pain on the floor as they clutched their aching stomachs. She chuckled, a mischievous glint sparkling in her eyes. ". . .and you get him with a gun. Oh, love that."

Birdie gritted her teeth together, eyes locking with Tracy. "I'm gonna kill you."

"You can try," Tracy said, standing back up. Birdie narrowed her eyes, clenching her jaw. Tracy hummed and headed towards the table near the far wall, chuckling to herself. "You know, back in the day, this was the one day you kept your children inside." She stopped in front of the altar, placing the chalice on the table. "Well, tonight you'll all see what Halloween really is."

Birdie sat up on one of her elbows, hissing as she rolled closer to Sam and Dean. Tracy started another incantation, her back to the trio. Sam, still clutching his stomach, crawled his way to Don's body. Birdie leaned over when she saw him, her eyes tripling in size when she saw Sam place his hand in the pool of blood by Don's body and smear it on his face.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Dean sharply whispered.

"Just follow my lead."

Sam spread some blood on Dean's face as well, the oldest Winchester realizing too late what Sam was doing. Sam put his hand in the blood again, moving towards Birdie. She grimaced with absolute disgust, pulling her head away. "No, I choose death——" Sam swiped his hand across her cheek, quickly smearing blood on the other side. Birdie's mouth smacked shut and she clenched her eyes shut, feeling some of the liquid trail down along her jaw.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill you," Birdie harshly whispered.

"Just shut up and follow my lead."

Tracy finished the incantation moments later, causing the ground to crack and allowing a thick, black smoke to pour out of it. Birdie quietly gasped, seeing it dive straight into Don's body. Her eyes widened in horror, realizing what that meant; they weren't able to stop the rising of Samhain, meaning another seal had been broken.

"Bird, lay down and close your eyes," Sam harshly whispered.

Birdie immediately did as he said.

Don——no, Samhain——rose up from the floor, immediately heading towards Tracy. She warmly smiled, eyes softened as he approached her. Samhain raised his hands, touching her cheek as he pulled her in for a kiss.

"My love," Tracy softly said.

"You've aged," Samhain noted.

"This face. . .I can't fool you."

"Your beauty is beyond time," Samhain said, leaning in and resting their foreheads together. Then his hands harshly turned her head, snapping her neck. Tracy collapsed to the floor, body thudding against the ground. "Whore."

Samhain turned around as he sniffed the air, spotting Dean, Sam, and Birdie lying motionless on the floor. He walked over and peered down at them for a second, seeing blurs of smeared red. Then he continued forward, walking up the stairs.

Dean opened one of his eyes as the basement door opened, the other opening when the door shut, signaling Samhain had left. He cautiously lifted his head, partially turning to make sure Samhain had actually left the basement. Sam rolled over onto his stomach, Birdie sitting up with her wide eyes flickering between the boys.

"What the fuck was that?" Dean whispered, wanting to make sure Samhain wouldn't overhear them if he were still inside the house.

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

"You gave it a shot?" Dean quietly repeated, raising his brows with a not so pleasant expression.

Birdie blinked, tilting her head as she sat up on her elbows. "You rubbed some dead guy's blood on our fuckin faces because you thought it might work?"

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

Birdie clenched her jaw, pointing a finger at him as she started to get up. "Samuel, I'm gonna kick your ass when this is all over."

But, needing to find and stop Samhain before he started to do some raising of the dead of his own, Birdie and the boys hastily left the basement without another word. Birdie rushed into the gloomy kitchen, searching in some of the tattered drawers until she found some towels. She held them under the sink and tossed one to Sam and then Dean, using the third for herself as she wiped the blood from her face. She shot Sam a glare as they headed towards the front door as they all wiped at their faces, causing Sam to huff.

"I'm sorry for saving your life. . .again."

"I would've preferred——"

"Guys," Dean snapped, throwing open the front door. "Now's not the time."

Birdie huffed and continued to hastily scrub the blood from her face, grimacing as she did so. Sam and Dean were in front of her, still doing the same as they made their way towards the Impala parked across the street. "Where the hell are we gonna find this dick?" Dean asked, wiping the last of the red substance from his face.

"Where would you go to raise other dark forces of the night?" Sam asked, rounding the front of Baby. Birdie went around the trunk, continuing to frantically rub at her face as she reached for the back door with her free hand, eyes snapping toward Sam with the question.

"Cemetery," Dean answered.

"Yeah."

They clambered inside the Impala, Dean quickly driving off as Birdie started to try and find where the closest cemetery was located.

"So, this demon's pretty powerful," Sam said after a few minutes, all three of their faces now free of Don's blood and the rags tossed in the floor of the backseat; obviously far enough away from Birdie.

"Yeah," Dean sighed in agreement.

Sam breathed in a deep breath, having a feeling he knew how Dean was going to react to his suggestion. "It might take more than the usual weapons."

Birdie shifted in the backseat, instantly understanding what Sam meant. Sam glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye, and Dean looked over. They shared a look and then Dean understood. "Sam, no," Dean said, closing his eyes for a few seconds. Sam rolled his eyes and Birdie sighed, slouching in the backseat; she could already tell a fight was about to begin. "You're not using your psychic b-whatever."

"But——"

"Don't even think about it," Dean snapped. "Ruby's knife is enough."

"Why?" Sam wanted to know.

"Well because the angels said so for one——"

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

Birdie crossed her arms over her chest, brows furrowed together. "The angels are fuckin' dicks. Why should we do what they say?"

"Birdie, don't," Dean snapped. "And even then, they happen to be right about this one."

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

"Look, forget the angels, okay? You said it yourself, Sam, these powers——it's like playing with fire." Dean picked up the knife and held out the handle to Sam for him to take. "Please."

Sam remained still for a few moments, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek in frustration. Then he took the knife from Dean, silently looking forward as he held it in his hands.

Let's hope for Dean's sake that Samhain isn't as strong as the angels believe.

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

The fearful screams urged Birdie and the boys to move faster, tightening the grip on their loaded guns. They sprinted down the stairs of the mausoleum ahead, spotting a group of teens dressed in costumes crowded around the gates, desperately trying to get them open.

"You guys stay and help them," Sam said, already moving towards the hall leading in another direction.

"Dude, you're not going off alone," Dean sharply said.

"Sam——"

"Do it!"

Sam didn't leave room for Dean or Birdie to protest, hurrying off in search of Samhain. Birdie grunted in annoyance, concerned eyes following him for a few seconds. Dean focused on the teens in front of them, raising his hand and motioning for them to move out of the way. "Stand back! Stand back!"

His shouting captured Birdie's attention. She adjusted her grip on her gun and pursed her lips as the teens quickly moved away from the gate. Dean raised his gun once they were all out of the way and shot the lock. He swiftly kicked open the gate, him and Birdie hastily motioning the teens to hurry out. "Go on, come on, get out, move!"

The plaques on the walls rattled, growing more intense as Dean and Birdie stood in the middle of the room. Birdie nervously gulped and tightened her grip on her gun, sharing a panicked look with Dean. They both saw one near the ground was busted open, blood splattered on the broken pieces. One of the doors of a grave a few rows above suddenly crashed to the ground, breaking into tiny pieces.

A zombie slowly crawled out of it, catching himself on his hands. He started to stand up as another grave door crashed to the floor, the zombie in the next grave beginning to crawl out as well.

Dean lowered the bag from his shoulder, pulling out two silver stakes. He swiftly tossed one to Birdie and she caught it. Dean narrowed his eyes on the zombies as they looked at him and Birdie, tightening his grin on the weapon. "Bring it on, stinky."

The zombie lunged at Dean but he quickly dodged out of the way, stabbing it in the back. One of the plaques behind tumbled to the floor and Birdie whipped around, swinging the stake when a female zombie attempted to grab hold of her.

One after another the zombies slithered from their graves, hungry for flesh. Dean and Birdie closely worked together, saving the other at least a dozen times as they fought side by side. Blood was now stained into their clothing, sweat coating their clammy skin. Birdie's hands were clammy and the stake in her hand was becoming harder to grip, but she wasn't about to let that stop her, and neither was Dean.

Dean stabbed another zombie, falling to the ground with the body. Birdie grunted and sat up on her knees, reaching for the stake she'd dropped. A pair of heels walked up beside Dean, capturing his and Birdie' attention. Dean grabbed his stake and turned around to stab her, but she flickered and disappeared. Birdie's eyes widened in surprise and she quickly stood up just as the woman reappeared behind Dean when he fully stood up. He turned around and the woman moved both of her hands, sending him across the room. He crashed into the corner, sliding down the wall. The woman disappeared just when Birdie started to reach into Dean's bag for an iron rod, causing her to sigh.

"Zombie ghost orgy, huh?" he breathlessly huffed. "Well, that's it, I'm fuckin torchin' everybody."

"Hell yeah," Birdie said, hurrying over to Dean. She held her hand out to him and yanked him back on his feet when he slipped his hand into hers.

"But not you," Dean said.

"What?" Birdie frowned.

Dean sighed, peering at her with softened eyes. "You gotta find Sam, make sure he doesn't use his powers."

"But Dean——"

"I mean it, Bird," Dean said, voice firm. "Please."

Birdie wanted to object, but she did need to find Sam. She twisted her lips, reluctantly nodding in agreement. "Okay, fine, but Dean. . .scream if you need me."

Dean chuckled under his breath and nodded his head.

Birdie gave him a small smile and headed in the direction Sam had gone, still gripping the silver stake in case she ran into any zombies. There was some salt in her jacket pocket, but not enough to stop a ghost if they decided to pop out in front of her. But, that wasn't her main concern: Sam was.

"Sam!" Birdie rushed around a corner of the mausoleum, her stomach lurching when she saw Sam slide against a far wall. Samhain's back was to her, shoulders moving as if he was breathing heavily. Samhain sharply turned his head, Birdie's breath hitching in her throat as he stared straight at her. "Oh, fuck me. . ."

Samhain grunted and started to run at her, But Sam quickly raised his hand as he stood. Samhain struggled against Sam's invisible hold, groaning as he tried to move. Smoke flowed out of his bullet wounds, his nose scrunching up in a nastly snarl. Birdie's eyes slowly widened, gulping as Samhain stood up straight, his feet moving forward slightly. But he turned and faced Sam instead, finding himself unable to get any closer to him as well.

Sam grunted under his breath, using all he had to keep Samhain from completely charging towards him. Samhain moved a few steps closer, more drops of the jet black smoke slipping out from the bullet holes.

Birdie heard something coming up behind her and she raised her stake, only stopping when Dean reached up, grabbing her hand before she could stab him. "Woah, hey," he said. "It's just. . ."  Dean's voice stopped when he saw Sam at the end of the hall, his hand outstretched and undoubtedly using his powers.

"Dean, I. . .he did it to save me," Birdie breathed out. "Samhain charged at me and. . ."

Sam spotted Dean beside Birdie just over Samhain's shoulder, but he continued to use his powers.

He had to stop Samhain——it was now or never.

Sam used more concentration than ever before, his nose beginning to bleed from the excursion. Smoke started to pool from Samhain's mouth, hunching forward. Sam's hands dropped down from his head and he focused all his attention on Samhain.

Birdie's heart was thundering inside her chest, her and Dean's heavy breaths mixing as they anxiously watched from the sidelines. Finally, Sam managed to exorcize Samhain and Don's body dropped to the ground. The smoke billowed around the body, slowly sinking into the floor. Sam's nose continued to bleed, the pounding ache in his head beginning to slow down. His hand fell limp at his side, heavily breathing. Then he slowly lifted his head, meeting Dean's gaze.

Dean looked at him sadly, and with a little bit of fear in his eyes.

Sure, Sam stopped Samhain, but at what cost?

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

"Tomorrow is November second." Sam jumped at the sound of someone else in the room, turning around on his heel to Uriel seated on the couch behind him. He was nearly finished packing up the rest of his things, Dean loading up his and Birdie's bags just outside of the room which left him alone in the room. "That's an anniversary for you, right?"

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked.

"It's the day Azazel killed your mother, and 22 years later, your girlfriend, too," Uriel said. Sam looked away for a few moments, brows slightly furrowed when he faced the angel again. "It must be difficult to bear, yet you brazenly use the power he gave you. His profane blood pumping through your veins."

"Excuse me?" Sam sneered.

"You were told not to use your abilities."

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

"You were told not to."

"If Samhain had gotten loose in this town——"

"You've been warned twice now."

"You know? Dean and Birdie were right about you. You are fucking dicks."

Uriel turned his head, a whooshing sound fluttering in the wind. Sam's hair fluttered in some wind, causing him to squint at the sudden feeling. His eyes widened, seeing Uriel was now standing directly in front of him. "The only reason you're still alive, Sam Winchester, and that foul-mouth friend of yours you care about so much, is because you both have been useful. But the moment that ceases to be true, the second you two become more trouble than you're worth, one word——one——and I will turn you both to dust." Sam seemed to nod, face still hard as he stared back at Uriel. Uriel backed off, partially turned away as he continued to speak. "As for your brother, tell him that maybe he should climb off that high horse of his." Sam tilted his head, brows furrowing in confusion. "Ask Dean. . .what he remembers from hell."

The sound of fluttering filled the room again, and then Uriel was gone. Sam glanced around the room for any sign of him, but he was completely alone——well, or so Uriel had thought.

Birdie cautiously opened the bathroom door, her brown eyes wide with alert as she stepped out of the room to catch Sam's eye. "Why do I get the feeling he thought you were alone?" she wondered, tilting her head as she leaned against the doorframe.

Sam let out a shaky breath, shaking his head as he sat down on the bed beside his duffel bag. "Because he did," Sam said, blinking a few times as he looked aside. Then he turned his head towards Birdie, shaking his head. "How is that even possible?"

"This thing, I think," Birdie said, reaching up and removing a golden necklace from under her shirt; a special gift from her so called "friend". It was usually underneath her shirts or hoodies, the necklace from her father the one that was out on display for others to see; apparently, it was better if no one else saw the golden necklace, or so that's what she said. Birdie held it up with her thumb, hearing Sam breath out a laugh in disbelief. Then she ran a hand through her hair and walked over, standing off to the side of him. "It seems to be coming in handy."

"Yeah, and it might come back to bite us in the ass," Sam sighed. Birdie pursed her lips, readjusting her arms. Sam stood up, eyes locking with Birdie. "Are you still sure about this? Yesterday you——"

"I'm fine, Sam," Birdie said, offering him a warm smile. "I'm getting better, and faster, too."

Sam faintly returned the smile, letting out a heavy sigh. "You know, when we saw Castiel and Uriel here. . .you were. . ." Sam shifted, suspiciously narrowing his eyes on the younger woman. "That wasn't all you, was it?"

"No, it wasn't."

"But the angels——"

"Sam, just ask it already. I know it'll be easier than me going back and forth," Birdie said, playfully rolling her eyes. Sam huffed, shaking his head as Birdie just smiled at him. "It's okay. I promise."

"I. . .I need to talk to Felicity."

Birdie moved towards the opposite bed, plopping down on the edge while facing Sam. She rolled her shoulders, letting out a content sigh as her eyes fell on Sam a few moments later. Sam stood up straighter, feeling a sudden shift in the room. While Birdie was still in front of him, Birdie was no longer the one looking at him.

It was someone else completely.

"And here I thought you forgot all about me." Sam just narrowed his eyes, hearing her chuckle upon seeing his reaction. "What do you wanna know, Samuel?"

"You could start with why the angels can't see you, and why you seem to have an issue with them."

"Oh, well, in that case. . ."

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

It's been a bit since I've updated but finally here's a new chapter!!

I know it was probably confusing (especially with Birdie talking to the person in the reflection, the italicized comments, and the ending), but I promise it will all be explained!!!

I also changed Tracy and Don from being siblings because it just felt weird to me when she kissed Samhain in Don's body sksksk.

Now hopefully it won't take me as long to post the next chapter, but I'm getting near the end of pre writing season four so I am spending a lot of time writing those!!

But anyways, please don't forget to leave your feedback in the comments and I hope y'all enjoyed!