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CHAPTER ONE: ❝ happy haunting❞
𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁
HALLOWEEN was never an uneventful time of year for the Winchester brothers.
As hunters, every day was like Friday the 13th. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons, angels—things that made Jason and Freddy Kruger look like child's play—were almost normal to the pair of siblings, all in a day's work. There wasn't a time of day or night where something vaguely threatening wasn't knocking on their door or more importantly, trying to wipe them off the face of the Earth. The brothers could only reminisce if good old days when the occasional shapeshifter or jinn was the least of their worries; now with the threat of Abaddon, Metatron, rogue angels, and the Devil himself, their old life seemed like a cake walk. Anything seemed simpler compared to the war between Heaven and Hell raging on the daily.
October 31st, however, always seemed to promise something extra special.
It had been two weeks to the day since they had retired back to Lebanon, Kansas. The Bunker held its normal musty smell that Dean often found comforting, but Sam did not. The place had been abandoned for years, so who knew what kind of molds were growing. A smell that had been festering in the kitchen suggested something had died in the vents long ago, but where, where was the question. Sam was still questioning the strange stains on the upholstery of the sitting room armchairs, which he couldn't decipher from some sort of food or blood. However, neither brother particularly cared if the place wasn't five star material, so long as they had a place they could rest their heads in the meantime and, more importantly, so long as they had shelter when the world started going to shit. Again.
When they weren't consumed in books, searches on Sam's laptop, or possible leads about the Angel Tablet, life had been almost...normal. Well, as normal as normal could get for a pair of hunters. Dean, specifically, was thriving. Despite having one foot in the grave already and the other on a banana peel, he was taking advantage of having a place he could nearly call "home". He cooked, they drank, they got along—all things that seldom occurred as of late. Sam was apprehensive about the calm, but embraced this rare side of his brother; who knew if they'd live to see it again.
