My first Supernatural fic!!
How excited am I, you guys? VERY!
This was written for a prompt over at spn_halloween: Sam and Dean kill time Halloween night by trying to out-do each other with Halloween 'horror' stories.
Title: Nothing Can Scare Me
Genre: Gen
Characters: Sam, Dean, John
Rating: PG (for language)
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: The Boys are not mine. *is very sad*
Word Count: 1642
Author's Notes: Sam is 10 and Dean is 14.
Nothing Can Scare Me
Dean Winchester has always liked Halloween. Evil rituals and human sacrificing aside, it was a pretty awesome holiday where seemingly unlimited candy was always available, classic (if cheesy) horror movies made its rounds on TV, and hot girls in skimpy costumes paraded around, looking for a good time.
Halloween is awesome.
Usually.
“This freaking blows,” Dean muttered for the fifth time as he stared out of the window of the motel room.
Sam rolled his eyes from where he sat cross legged on his bed. He’d been reading Washington Irving’s The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, not for a project or anything but simply because it was Halloween and he felt in the mood. “Dean, I know you’re upset all right? But you heard on the news- this is the worst storm North Dakota’s seen in five years. We have to stay inside.”
Dean grunted sulkily, not answering. A torrential rainfall battered against the glass, raging home the point that he couldn’t go anywhere even if he wanted to; especially not to the Halloween Rave that Trisha Holt had invited him to. She told Dean that she’d be wearing a hot nurse outfit and promised to let him investigate it further at the party.
The party that lay on the other side of the flooded out bridge.
“Goddammit,” he muttered.
Sam finally set down his book and glared at his brother. “Quit moping, Dean. Why don’t you go and watch TV or something? And finish the rest of the candy you stole,” he added, his voice just a tiny bit accusing.
“Hey, I didn’t steal anything,” Dean argued. “The sign said I could take them.”
“One, Dean. The sign said to take one.”
“Whatever,” Dean said. But he felt a little better at the thought of the leftover candy in his knapsack. It was Halloween after all. There was quite possibly a good scary movie on TV right now-
A loud boom of thunder shook the ground, making the two brothers almost jump out of their skins. A split second later the room was plunged into total darkness.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Dean yelled.
Sam made a snorting noise.
“You better not be laughing Sammy.”
“No,” was all Sam said, but his voice sounded a little strained.
Dean sighed. This seriously had to be the worst Halloween ever.
There was a click and a point of light flashed on out of the corner of Dean’s eyes. When he turned around, Sam was holding a flashlight beneath his chin, his face shining.
Dean rolled his eyes. “Sammy, what are you doing?”
“Making Halloween count,” he said with a grin. “Let’s tell scary stories.”
“What are you, five? Forget it.”
“Oh come on Dean, it’ll be fun. And it’s not like there’s anything else to do.” His expression was wide-eyed, pleading and he knew that Dean wouldn’t deny him.
Just as expected, Dean sighed in grumbling assent. “Fine.”
Sam watched his brother's form shuffling at the foot of the bed. He heard a duffel bag being unzipped and then watched Dean come up moments later holding a jumbo bag of gummy worms.
“Okay, if we are gonna do this thing, I’m going first. Prepare to wet your PJs, Sammy,” he announced as he settled on the bed next to his brother.
“Yeah, you wish,” Sam retorted happily, scooting over so Dean could join him on the bed.
Sam passed over the flashlight to Dean. Dean’s usual smirk turned into something more sinister in the stark light, his green eyes glittering in a way that made Sam already shuffle uneasily on the bed.
Dean leaned forward slightly, his eyes never leaving his brother’s. And taking a deep breath, he began his spooky tale.
“There’s this place, not too far from here. It used to be a state fair. Not much of it left now. The rides are old and rusted over. The game booths have been boarded shut. And no one ever goes near the place. Not since North Dakota State Fair Massacre.”
Sam went pale. He clutched the bed sheets in clenched fists, swallowing thickly. “State Fair Massacre?”
“Uh huh. Twenty-eight kids were found gutted inside a circus.”
“Who- who did it?” Sam whispered.
“A circus clown who went crazy,” Dean told him. “Some say he hated his job so much, he finally snapped. Others say he was an escaped mental patient who killed the real clown and took his clothes. No one really knows. But one thing's certain. He roams the streets of this town, with a painted-on frown, black holes for eyes and a large blood-red nose, looking for kids to kill. Especially on dark, stormy Halloween nights… just like this one.”
And with those words, Dean switched off the light.
There was a crash in the darkness. Sam let out a long terrified scream.
Dean burst out laughing, switching the flashlight back on. “You’re too easy,” he chortled, ducking the pillow that Sam hurled at him.
“You’re such a jerk, Dean!” Sam hollered. He was more embarrassed than angry that he fell for Dean’s prank. Of course there was no psycho killer clown. It was just a stupid story. Sam was sure of that.
Well, mostly sure. He glanced at the window worriedly.
Sam was going to get his own back though, no question about it. “Now it’s my turn,” Sam said. He snatched the flashlight out of Dean’s hands and placed it under the worn blanket to make it even dimmer. The smothered light made creepy shadows over Sam's face, giving it a hollow appearance.
“Have you ever heard of... Aviator Jack?”
Dean made a scoffing noise. “Who’s that?”
“He was a pilot from the thirties,” Sam said somberly, narrowing his eyes. "Flew these really small planes all over America carrying mail and stuff. Until one Halloween night, that is.”
“What happened?”
“These kids from a small town- this very town, in fact- decided to have a little fun. They stared tossing flaming jack 'o lanterns from this makeshift catapult, trying to see who could make theirs go the highest. But one of the jack ‘o lanterns flew higher than all the rest. It flew straight at the Aviator and knocked his head clean off.”
“Oh please,” Dean scoffed. But his voice sounded slightly breathless.
“It’s true,” Sam insisted. “The kids saw the plane crash into the woods nearby. They were so scared at what they did and they ran over to help. But when they went to where they saw the plane go down… there was nothing there. No crash, no body, not even smoke. The plane just… disappeared.
“The kids thought they must have been seeing things, you know? The creepiness of Halloween getting to them and everything. So, they went home and tried to forget all about it. But Aviator Jack wouldn’t let them.”
Sam paused, letting the suspense creep in until Dean said sharply, “Dammit Sam, what happened already?”
“They died,” he said simply. “One by one, Aviator Jack came after them. Bloody and burned, with a crushed jack ‘o lantern where his head used to be, he crept into their rooms while they slept. He carried them, kicking and screaming into his plane and flew over the field where they first brought him down, higher and higher into the air.
“Then, when he was just above the clouds… he pushed them out, letting them fall to their death. They were so high up, that when their bodies hit the ground they were almost liquefied. But that’s not the worst of it.”
“It isn’t?” Dean asked in a soft voice. He wasn’t the least bit scared of course. Just… curious.
“No, it isn’t,” Sam said just as quietly. “When the kids were found the next morning, their heads were gone. Just crushed jack ‘o lanterns next to their bodies. Now every Halloween night, Aviator Jack flies over small towns looking for bad kids… to take into his plane.”
A crack of thunder punctuated his last sentence.
For long seconds, neither boy spoke. Then the door burst open.
Sam and Dean yelled out in terror, gaping at the dark figure framed in the doorway of their cabin. Dean fell clear off the bed, scrabbling blindly for the rifle that lay in the duffel nearby.
“What’s going on here?” asked the Psycho Killer Clown/Aviator Jack.
Only… he wasn’t either of them.
“D-Dad?” Dean said weakly.
“Would you mind putting down the rifle, son? Unless you’re planning to use it.”
“Oh…” Dean lowered the weapon. “Sorry sir.”
“What’s going on here?” John asked again.
“W-we were just telling scary stories,” Sam said a little shakily.
“Really?” he said, eyeing the two boys. “Stories, huh? Don’t you think real life is scary enough?”
“Well it is Halloween Dad,” Sam said.
“All right, all right,” he muttered. “Speaking of which, got you boys something.” He tossed some candy bars on the bed. Sam and Dean dove for them.
“Thank you, sir!” they said together.
“Sure thing. I’m going to go get the lanterns out of the car, get some light in here.”
As John left, Sam and Dean exchanged looks, then tentative grins.
“Want to tell another story?” Sam suggested, unwrapping a candy bar.
Dean hesitated. “Sure you’re not still scared?”
“I wasn’t scared,” Sam boasted, now that he had both his big brother and father within a comforting distance.
Dean grinned, shaking his head. But he decided not to tease Sam about it. He looked down at the floor where the flashlight had fallen. Picking it up, he flashed it into his face once again.
“Are you ready?” Dean whispered, amidst the sounds of the storm raging outside.
Dean Winchester has always liked Halloween. Even if it is spent with his little brother, exchanging silly scary stories...
Which may or may not be true. Only time will tell.
This was written for a prompt over at spn_halloween: Sam and Dean kill time Halloween night by trying to out-do each other with Halloween 'horror' stories.
Title: Nothing Can Scare Me
Genre: Gen
Characters: Sam, Dean, John
Rating: PG (for language)
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: The Boys are not mine. *is very sad*
Word Count: 1642
Author's Notes: Sam is 10 and Dean is 14.
Nothing Can Scare Me
Dean Winchester has always liked Halloween. Evil rituals and human sacrificing aside, it was a pretty awesome holiday where seemingly unlimited candy was always available, classic (if cheesy) horror movies made its rounds on TV, and hot girls in skimpy costumes paraded around, looking for a good time.
Halloween is awesome.
Usually.
“This freaking blows,” Dean muttered for the fifth time as he stared out of the window of the motel room.
Sam rolled his eyes from where he sat cross legged on his bed. He’d been reading Washington Irving’s The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, not for a project or anything but simply because it was Halloween and he felt in the mood. “Dean, I know you’re upset all right? But you heard on the news- this is the worst storm North Dakota’s seen in five years. We have to stay inside.”
Dean grunted sulkily, not answering. A torrential rainfall battered against the glass, raging home the point that he couldn’t go anywhere even if he wanted to; especially not to the Halloween Rave that Trisha Holt had invited him to. She told Dean that she’d be wearing a hot nurse outfit and promised to let him investigate it further at the party.
The party that lay on the other side of the flooded out bridge.
“Goddammit,” he muttered.
Sam finally set down his book and glared at his brother. “Quit moping, Dean. Why don’t you go and watch TV or something? And finish the rest of the candy you stole,” he added, his voice just a tiny bit accusing.
“Hey, I didn’t steal anything,” Dean argued. “The sign said I could take them.”
“One, Dean. The sign said to take one.”
“Whatever,” Dean said. But he felt a little better at the thought of the leftover candy in his knapsack. It was Halloween after all. There was quite possibly a good scary movie on TV right now-
A loud boom of thunder shook the ground, making the two brothers almost jump out of their skins. A split second later the room was plunged into total darkness.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Dean yelled.
Sam made a snorting noise.
“You better not be laughing Sammy.”
“No,” was all Sam said, but his voice sounded a little strained.
Dean sighed. This seriously had to be the worst Halloween ever.
There was a click and a point of light flashed on out of the corner of Dean’s eyes. When he turned around, Sam was holding a flashlight beneath his chin, his face shining.
Dean rolled his eyes. “Sammy, what are you doing?”
“Making Halloween count,” he said with a grin. “Let’s tell scary stories.”
“What are you, five? Forget it.”
“Oh come on Dean, it’ll be fun. And it’s not like there’s anything else to do.” His expression was wide-eyed, pleading and he knew that Dean wouldn’t deny him.
Just as expected, Dean sighed in grumbling assent. “Fine.”
Sam watched his brother's form shuffling at the foot of the bed. He heard a duffel bag being unzipped and then watched Dean come up moments later holding a jumbo bag of gummy worms.
“Okay, if we are gonna do this thing, I’m going first. Prepare to wet your PJs, Sammy,” he announced as he settled on the bed next to his brother.
“Yeah, you wish,” Sam retorted happily, scooting over so Dean could join him on the bed.
Sam passed over the flashlight to Dean. Dean’s usual smirk turned into something more sinister in the stark light, his green eyes glittering in a way that made Sam already shuffle uneasily on the bed.
Dean leaned forward slightly, his eyes never leaving his brother’s. And taking a deep breath, he began his spooky tale.
“There’s this place, not too far from here. It used to be a state fair. Not much of it left now. The rides are old and rusted over. The game booths have been boarded shut. And no one ever goes near the place. Not since North Dakota State Fair Massacre.”
Sam went pale. He clutched the bed sheets in clenched fists, swallowing thickly. “State Fair Massacre?”
“Uh huh. Twenty-eight kids were found gutted inside a circus.”
“Who- who did it?” Sam whispered.
“A circus clown who went crazy,” Dean told him. “Some say he hated his job so much, he finally snapped. Others say he was an escaped mental patient who killed the real clown and took his clothes. No one really knows. But one thing's certain. He roams the streets of this town, with a painted-on frown, black holes for eyes and a large blood-red nose, looking for kids to kill. Especially on dark, stormy Halloween nights… just like this one.”
And with those words, Dean switched off the light.
There was a crash in the darkness. Sam let out a long terrified scream.
Dean burst out laughing, switching the flashlight back on. “You’re too easy,” he chortled, ducking the pillow that Sam hurled at him.
“You’re such a jerk, Dean!” Sam hollered. He was more embarrassed than angry that he fell for Dean’s prank. Of course there was no psycho killer clown. It was just a stupid story. Sam was sure of that.
Well, mostly sure. He glanced at the window worriedly.
Sam was going to get his own back though, no question about it. “Now it’s my turn,” Sam said. He snatched the flashlight out of Dean’s hands and placed it under the worn blanket to make it even dimmer. The smothered light made creepy shadows over Sam's face, giving it a hollow appearance.
“Have you ever heard of... Aviator Jack?”
Dean made a scoffing noise. “Who’s that?”
“He was a pilot from the thirties,” Sam said somberly, narrowing his eyes. "Flew these really small planes all over America carrying mail and stuff. Until one Halloween night, that is.”
“What happened?”
“These kids from a small town- this very town, in fact- decided to have a little fun. They stared tossing flaming jack 'o lanterns from this makeshift catapult, trying to see who could make theirs go the highest. But one of the jack ‘o lanterns flew higher than all the rest. It flew straight at the Aviator and knocked his head clean off.”
“Oh please,” Dean scoffed. But his voice sounded slightly breathless.
“It’s true,” Sam insisted. “The kids saw the plane crash into the woods nearby. They were so scared at what they did and they ran over to help. But when they went to where they saw the plane go down… there was nothing there. No crash, no body, not even smoke. The plane just… disappeared.
“The kids thought they must have been seeing things, you know? The creepiness of Halloween getting to them and everything. So, they went home and tried to forget all about it. But Aviator Jack wouldn’t let them.”
Sam paused, letting the suspense creep in until Dean said sharply, “Dammit Sam, what happened already?”
“They died,” he said simply. “One by one, Aviator Jack came after them. Bloody and burned, with a crushed jack ‘o lantern where his head used to be, he crept into their rooms while they slept. He carried them, kicking and screaming into his plane and flew over the field where they first brought him down, higher and higher into the air.
“Then, when he was just above the clouds… he pushed them out, letting them fall to their death. They were so high up, that when their bodies hit the ground they were almost liquefied. But that’s not the worst of it.”
“It isn’t?” Dean asked in a soft voice. He wasn’t the least bit scared of course. Just… curious.
“No, it isn’t,” Sam said just as quietly. “When the kids were found the next morning, their heads were gone. Just crushed jack ‘o lanterns next to their bodies. Now every Halloween night, Aviator Jack flies over small towns looking for bad kids… to take into his plane.”
A crack of thunder punctuated his last sentence.
For long seconds, neither boy spoke. Then the door burst open.
Sam and Dean yelled out in terror, gaping at the dark figure framed in the doorway of their cabin. Dean fell clear off the bed, scrabbling blindly for the rifle that lay in the duffel nearby.
“What’s going on here?” asked the Psycho Killer Clown/Aviator Jack.
Only… he wasn’t either of them.
“D-Dad?” Dean said weakly.
“Would you mind putting down the rifle, son? Unless you’re planning to use it.”
“Oh…” Dean lowered the weapon. “Sorry sir.”
“What’s going on here?” John asked again.
“W-we were just telling scary stories,” Sam said a little shakily.
“Really?” he said, eyeing the two boys. “Stories, huh? Don’t you think real life is scary enough?”
“Well it is Halloween Dad,” Sam said.
“All right, all right,” he muttered. “Speaking of which, got you boys something.” He tossed some candy bars on the bed. Sam and Dean dove for them.
“Thank you, sir!” they said together.
“Sure thing. I’m going to go get the lanterns out of the car, get some light in here.”
As John left, Sam and Dean exchanged looks, then tentative grins.
“Want to tell another story?” Sam suggested, unwrapping a candy bar.
Dean hesitated. “Sure you’re not still scared?”
“I wasn’t scared,” Sam boasted, now that he had both his big brother and father within a comforting distance.
Dean grinned, shaking his head. But he decided not to tease Sam about it. He looked down at the floor where the flashlight had fallen. Picking it up, he flashed it into his face once again.
“Are you ready?” Dean whispered, amidst the sounds of the storm raging outside.
Dean Winchester has always liked Halloween. Even if it is spent with his little brother, exchanging silly scary stories...
Which may or may not be true. Only time will tell.