Just because you were a witch, didn't mean you were a bad person. Every witch case you and the brothers came across were always the same. Some messed-up woman wanted revenge on a friend, boyfriend, or even a whole town. Having powers was definitely something you could get used to, but you could never think about using them to hurt someone else.
Seeing this case in the newspaper really put a damper on things because you wanted to believe that you were a good person. Were you just going to end up like every other witch and go stir-crazy? What did the future have in store for you?
"How many razor blades did they find?" Sam asked the grieving woman. Her husband, Luke Wallace, died by razor blades. Dean had suspicion that a witch was involved based on the nature of it. That is why they were talking to the woman and you were finding the hex bag—if there was any to be found.
"Two on the floor," she answered with tears nearly coming, "one in his stomach, and one was stuck in his throat. He swallowed four of them. How is that even possible?" Looking at the oven, you peeked around it to see if there might have been a hex bag, and unfortunately, Mrs. Wallace saw you. "The candy was never near the oven."
"We just have to be thorough, Mrs. Wallace," you assured her.
"Did the police find any razors in the rest of the candy?" Sam asked, trying to keep her attention away from you. Getting on your knees, you checked underneath the oven when you spotted a hex bag-shaped item. Bingo.
"No, I mean, I don't think so. I just—I can't believe it. You hear urban legends about this stuff, but it actually happens?"
"More than you might imagine," Sam sighed. Reaching for the bag, you pulled it out from under the oven before standing up. Holding up the hex bag behind Mrs. Wallace, you showed the brothers that this was indeed a witch case.
"Mrs. Wallace did Luke have any enemies?" Sam asked with a sigh.
"Enemies?"
"Anyone who might have held a grudge against him?"
"What do you mean?"
"Co-workers? Neighbors? Maybe a woman?" Dean asked. Mrs. Wallace suddenly got what Dean insinuated and became offended.
"Are you suggesting an affair?"
"Is it possible?" you asked, putting the bag in your pocket before approaching the brothers.
"No! No, Luke would never—"
"I'm very sorry. We just have to consider all possibilities," Sam interrupted her.
"If someone wanted to kill my husband, don't you think they'd find a better way than a razor in a piece of candy he might eat?" she asked, making you look at the brothers.
"If you have any more information, please don't hesitate to call. You have our number," you said to her, trying to get away to talk about the hex bag you found.
"Okay," she sniffled. She escorted everyone out, giving you three time to talk.
"Okay, where to start?" you asked, pulling out the hex bag and giving it to Sam.
"I can look into this hex bag. You two find out why someone wanted Luke dead," Sam took charge, telling everyone exactly their parts. Now that you knew yours, it was only a matter of time.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All the time you spent trying to figure out why Luke was killed was wasted since you and Dean never found anything. Hopefully, Sam had a lot more luck than you two did. As Dean pulled up to the motel room, he took out yet another piece of candy before popping it in his mouth.
"Really? Another one? Even after we found razor blades?" you asked as you got out.
"It's Halloween," he shrugged. Shaking your head, you walked into the room where Sam was at the table, the contents of the hex bag all over it. Dean set his keys on the table along with a bunch of candy wrappers.
"Really? After that guy choked down all those razor blades?"
"That's what I said."
"It's Halloween, man," Dean said before taking a seat at the table. Pulling a chair over to them, you sat between them to check it out. "Don't be a downer. Anything interesting?"
"Well, we're on a witch hunt, that's for sure, but this isn't your typical hex bag," Sam explained, showing you what was inside it. One the table was a silver piece the size of a coin, something small and charred in addition to an organic dried up flower.
"What are these?" you asked.
"Goldthread," Sam picked up the dried-up flower, "an herb that's been extinct for two hundred years. And this silver coin is Celtic, and I don't mean some new age knock-off. It looks like the real deal, like 600 years old real."
"What is this?" you asked, picking up the small charred item.
"That is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby."
"Gross," Dean shuddered while you just shrugged.
"It's sad," you frowned, placing it back on the table.
"It's at least a hundred years old," Sam informed you.
"Oh, right, like that makes it better? Witches, man, they're so fucking skeevy," Dean shivered. Suddenly, a wave of guilt and sadness washed over you. It's not like you asked to be a witch.
"Yeah, I guess," you shrugged.
"No, I didn't mean it like that," Dean tried to take back what he said, but you waved him off.
"It's fine. Sam, what else did you find?"
"Well, it takes a pretty powerful witch to put a bag like this together. More juice than we've ever dealt with, that's for sure. What about you two? Find anything on the victim?"
"Luke was so vanilla, he makes vanilla seem spicy," you answered for Dean, trying to get your mind off the fact that you were a witch. Dean felt really bad and knew he would have to make up for it later. "I can't find any reason why somebody would want this guy dead."
"Let's hope we figure it out before someone else in this town dies," Sam sighed as he leaned back in his chair.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Speaking of other people dying, later that night, you heard of someone else dying in a mysterious way. It happened at a college party, and a girl named Jenny had drowned while bobbing for apples. As much as you hated it, this death screamed witch to you. As the three of you entered the crime scene, you put a hand on Sam and Dean's chest to stop them.
"I'll go look for the hex bag. Just keep them busy," you said before walking to the other side of the room where the couches were. If you anything about hex bags, you knew that witches loved to hide them in places where they couldn't be found. It's mainly because they wanted to get away with the death and by the time someone found it, they wouldn't relate it back to the death.
Getting on your knees, you peeked over at Sam and Dean to see them talking to a blonde girl who looked like she had been crying.
"Your friend didn't happen to know a man named Luke Wallace?" Dean asked, holding out his badge for the girl to see.
"Who's Luke Wallace?"
"He died yesterday."
"I don't know who that is," the girl sighed. Reaching your hand into the cushions, you felt around for something unusual until you found it. Grabbing it, you pulled out another hex bag. Sighing deeply, you turned to the brothers before holding up the bag. No one else seemed to be paying attention to you which was good. Once the brothers saw the bag in your hand, they knew they needed to wrap this up as soon as possible. It was time to hit the books again.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Once again, Sam was checking out the contents of the bag while you and Dean did research on the newest victim, Jenny, but she was cleaner than Luke. There was no dirt on these two people, which got you frustrated because why was a witch killing them?
"Sam, there is nothing on these victims. They are both squeaky clean. There is no reason for a wicked bitch payback," you groaned, rubbing your temples to ease the slight headache. Sam, who had been reading a book about the contents, suddenly sat up as if he had an idea.
"Maybe cause it's not about that."
"What do you mean?" you asked, getting up and joining him on the bed where he was.
"Maybe this witch isn't working the grudge, maybe they're working a spell. 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," Dean stated.
"Exactly."
"What exactly are the blood sacrifices for?" you wondered.
"Uh, if I'm right, this witch is summoning a demon, and not just any demon—Samhain."
"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Dean asked, something he said when he didn't understand what Sam was talking about.
"Dean, Samhain is the damn origin of Halloween. 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, and faces carved into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcised centuries ago."
"So even though Samhain took a trip downstairs, the tradition stuck."
"Only now instead of demons and blood orgies Halloween is all about kids, candy and costumes," you put the pieces together.
"Okay, so some witch wants to raise Samhain and take back the night?" Dean asked.
"Dean, this is serious," Sam sighed.
"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'm assuming tonight or tomorrow night?" you asked.
"Yeah." Sighing, you looked at the book before settling your eyes on a picture of the demon on a heap of bodies while holding a head in his hand.
"It sure is a lot of death and destruction for one demon," you commented.
"That's because he likes company. Once he's raised, Samhain can do some raising of his own, i.e., dark, evil shit and lots of it. I mean, they follow him around like the fucking Pied Piper."
"So, we're talking ghosts?" Dean asked and Sam nodded. "Zombies?" Another nod. "Leprechauns?"
"Dean," Sam sighed.
"Those little dudes are scary. Small hands."
"Look, it just starts with ghosts and ghouls, 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."
"Shit, it's going to be a slaughterhouse," you gasped softly.
"Not unless we can stop it before it ever gets started. We have to figure out who the witch it. One of us needs to stakeoutthe Wallace's place while one of us takes the research," Sam declared.
"There is no way in hell I am doing that research. You two have fun with that. I'll be on babysitting duty," Dean said.
"Fine, first thing in the morning we'll get started," you said with a yawn, ready for an uncomfortable night's sleep.