UNTITLED
1987
Outside the motel room door stood two small girls and one teenage boy. One of the girl's wore a much too big witch hat and fake long nose was strapped around her head with string. She looked better than the girl next to her, however. This one had a long black cat tail wrapped around her waist. It hung too low and curled up on the ground as she stood there. The saddest part of her costume wasn't the tail, though. It wasn't the poorly matched tiger ears or white shirt and pants, either; it was the little black dot drawn on her nose with mascara that she had clearly been touching since the beginning of the night.
Behind them stood a teenage boy, who wore nothing but a zipped jacket, jeans, and a sour expression.
A small boy in an overgrown shirt, one that clearly belonged to his father, stood in the doorway. Dean Winchester had been sitting on the large motel bed watching whatever he could find on T.V. for hours, so he saw no real reason to get dressed. Until, of course, trick-or-treaters had come out about a half hour ago. Dean couldn't for the life of him figure out what people were thinking knocking at motel doors for candy. But so far, it'd happened twice.
Dean looked them both over, frustrated. "That's all we've got. At least it has sugar."
"You're not supposed to give cereal..." the little witch whined.
The palm of Dean's hand found his forehead as he let out an exasperated sigh. "Yeah," chimed in her misfit friend, as she wiggled her little plastic bag at him. "Get us candy."
Dean made a face at the cat and then reached into his pockets. He pulled out a two quarters and dropped one into each of their bags. "Go buy some candy, then," he snapped. Before any of them could respond, he slammed the door closed. He grunted and shook his head as he turned around.
Sam had been sleeping since five. He'd caught a cold before their dad dropped them off two days ago and fortunately for Dean's eight year old sanity, his little brother had napped most of the forty-eight hours. The reason he'd enjoyed Sam sleeping off his cold was for one simple reason: Sam could whine. When sick he would sit in one spot of the bed, huddled up selfishly in all of the blankets, basically sneezing on the remote he refused to surrender...and worst of all, was: "Deaaan...I'm thirsty...It's cold...I don't feel good...Deaaan."
Generally, Dean could handle Sam's whining; he was four, and more importantly, it was Dean's responsibility to. However, when Sam was sick, Dean wanted to crawl out the window and leave his brother unprotected. Let his whining kill whatever may come to hurt him. He was completely convinced that nothing could stand it, not even the baddest demon there was.
"Deaaan," Sam said, his face scrunched up in a pout. Dean's shoulders slumped and he walked over to the sink. With a cup of water in hand, Dean walked over to his brother, who was wiping his snotty nose with his shirt sleeve. "Here, Sammy," he said, holding the glass out. Sam took it and chugged it. He smiled sleepily at Dean as he handed the cup back. Dean returned the smile and placed the cup on the stand near the bed.
"I'm gonna brush my teeth. Go back to sleep, kay?" Dean's motives were a little self-serving, though Sam did look like he could use another couple hours. Hopefully for Dean, Sam would sleep through the rest of the night so he could too.
Dean went into the bathroom. When he turned the water off he heard voices. At first he assumed it was the television and continued to scrub his teeth; but when Sam started talking, Dean hurried out of the bathroom holding the toothbrush in his mouth. Sam was standing at the door with the large comforter draped over his shoulders, staring up at sheet with holes where a child's eyes would be underneath.
"Sammy-" Dean started, his voice muffled by toothpaste. He moved toward his brother who was chatting away.
"-transparent, not white. And they look like normal people, so the sheet doesn't make sense." Dean stopped, eyebrow raised and toothpaste foaming out of his mouth.
The voice of an older boy came from under the sheet; "I just want some candy."
Dean moved to take his toothbrush out, to explain once again that they didn't have any, when Sam started up again.
"You really shouldn't. They make cavities and stuff and it has a big chance of being poisoned. You shouldn't ask for candy from strangers. You could die. It's happened before." Sam spoke in a matter-of-fact way that only a four year old could properly pull off.
Past the poorly-constructed ghost, Dean could see more children approaching. He groaned through his toothbrush and moved for the door. Just as a small girl in a clown costume approached, Sam let out a horrified noise and sprinted past Dean and onto the bed. He huddled up in the blankets and refused to look at anything but the television.
Dean rolled his eyes and made it to the door just as two children joined the sheet. Pulling the toothbrush from his mouth, he said in a muffled stern voice, "We don't have candy, get lost." With that he slammed the door and turned back to Sam. "Geez, Sammy, you really know how to spoil the Halloween spirit for someone, huh?" he joked.
2009
Dean was standing at the sink in the bathroom of a motel. He was glaring down at the toothbrush in his hand.
"Sam!" he shouted, moving so he could lean back through the door frame. His brother was sitting on one of the two beds with his laptop open in front of him.
Sam glanced up at Dean, still typing away. "What?" He was clearly not interested.
Dean glared harder and stepped out of the bathroom, holding his toothbrush out. "Why is it sticky? What'd you do to it?" he barked.
Sam stopped typing and looked over at Dean with a defeated expression. "I didn't do anything to your toothbrush, Dean," He was going for offended but honest. Dean rolled his eyes and looked across the room. Castiel was standing by the small table - when he hadn't been even in the room a moment ago - watching them both intently. Castiel met his gaze and stared.
"Well, Cas?" Dean asked, accusatory.
Castiel glanced over at Sam, then back to Dean before answering. "I was not involved."
Dean pointed his toothbrush at Sam in triumph and made a face before going back into the bathroom.
"That doesn't mean I was involved!" Sam called helplessly, shooting Castiel a look. Castiel ignored him, now watching the door.
"I'm using your toothbrush," Dean called back, tossing his into the trashcan next to the sink. Sam shut his laptop and bounded into the bathroom. Just as they started bickering a small knock came from the door to the room. Sam scrunched up his face and Dean sighed. They both knew it was the Trick-or-Treaters.
Dean shook his head and muttered, "People still let their children knock on motel doors. What is wrong with people?" Sam shrugged and took Dean's distraction as his moment to take back his tooth brush. He made a face at his older brother and hurried out of the bathroom.
When Dean came up behind him he saw Castiel at the door towering over a small girl in a fluffy pink dress and a small plastic crown upon her head. With only a few words from Castiel the little girl ran teary-eyed from the door. He shut it and turned around to see a bemused Sam and an appalled Dean.
"Cas, why'd you do that?" Dean asked, walking over to the door to turn off the porch light outside the room. Something he often forgot to do on Halloween.
Castiel watched Dean, tilting his head when he turned back to face him. "What?" he asked.
Dean sighed. "Why'd you tell her she wasn't a princess?"
Castiel stood up straighter, now understanding the question. "She wasn't aware," he said simply, still watching Dean intently. When Dean shook his head, Castiel went back to being confused.
Sam was snickering quietly, and Dean shot him a look as he said, "So? Dude, you can't go around telling little girls they're not a princesses." Castiel's eyebrows furrowed together, more confused now.
"Why not? She isn't one-" Castiel started, but Dean cut him off.
"Because, man, it's like telling a kid that there's no Easter Bunny."
Castiel tilted his head again, considering Dean for a moment. "...But there's isn't an Easter Bunny."
Sam snorted and Dean sighed. "That's not the point..."
Sam took this moment to add in, "But he has a point, Dean-"
Dean glared at him, "Shut up, Sam. You both really know how spoil a kid's fun, that's for sure."
Clearly done with this, Dean moved past his brother, swiping the toothbrush as he went by and walked back into the bathroom. As he turned on the water, Castiel looked over at Sam, "I still don't understand."
Sam grinned and said, "Don't worry about it, Cas," He crawled back on the bed and opened his laptop. "Dean's still pissed about finding out he wasn't really a princess." Castiel still looked confused and from the bathroom came a muffled but annoyed, "Shut up, Sam!"
end