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*
It had been a long month.
The first two weeks had involved festivals and hayrides, corn mazes and pumpkin patches. The next two were dedicated to baking, costume prep, taking your niblings to their respective Halloween parades, and trying to get caught up on your serial killer podcast.
And the last few days, nonstop.
Pumpkin carvings, one Rocky Horror Picture Show party, three haunted houses, and one slam poetry reading at your favourite cafe.
You were beat, and nothing sounded more appealing than curling up in your fuzziest pyjamas, turning on some jazz, and enjoying the rest of your pumpkin seeds before an early bedtime.
You didn't expect any ghouls or goblins tonight; your town had rescheduled the official trick'r'treating to tomorrow in preparation for several inches of rain and near 50 mile per hour winds.
You had just gotten comfortable when your doorbell rang, and for a moment, for one long moment, you were tempted to ignore its command, ignore whoever dared disturb you on the most sacred of holidays.
But your kindness won out, your sense of duty pulling you towards the front door, sparing only the briefest glance out the peephole before tugging it open, uncaring who saw you dressed like this; if decorum had been their concern, they should have texted you first.
"Can I help you?"
The brunet was facing the road, the sudden tension to their shoulders triggering a wariness in you, the instincts of a former life having you reach for a weapon that wasn't in your possession, mentally calculating what kind of enemy would dare to show up at your front door.
They turned around slowly, a raised brow and broken smile the very first features you took in, your very footing failing you for a moment.
"Kevin?"
His arms spread in a small surrender to his sides, some semblance of an apologetic shrug that pierced you through the chest.
"Trick' r' treat?"
Several tests later- shapeshifter, Leviathan, and, hilariously enough, ghoul- you were finally inviting him inside, clinging as much as you dared risk, demanding answers for his presence, cursing God for not letting one of His best prophets receive his well-earned eternal rest.
"So you've been wandering for-"
"A few weeks now, yeah."
The whole thing was almost hard to believe, were it not for the rise in demonic activity a few counties over, if it were not for the uncharacteristic changes in the weather patterns, a seemingly endless stream of chaos in California and the Missouri River Valley, so many bigger events setting off around the globe in such rapid succession that it was nigh impossible to even keep record of them.
The boys intended to fight, to reclaim Free Will yet again, this time from the biggest possible villain in the entire multiverse.
"Fan-frickin'-tastic."
"Yeah. Tell me about it."
You were each seated on opposite ends of the loveseat, lounging in the faux tranquillity provided by Sinatra and hanging Chinese lanterns.
There was a thrum of restlessness between the two of you, a familiar tension shared during many evenings in the Bunker, too anxious to rest after a difficult case or another Winchester Match. It chewed at you now, the coiling spring that would force you into action, push you once more back into the fray, this time for the very sake of Autonomy.
Lucifer had been right the first time; God was indeed a tyrant.
You itched to tug out your lore, creep down into the hallway you had almost forgotten existed, seeking out the answers you knew were waiting for you.
But it had been a long, long month.
And while the circumstances were far from ideal, while the scenario was the last thing you could have ever wanted, one of your best friends was here for Halloween night.
God could wait His turn.
*