t h e . m o s t . s i n c e r e . p u m p k i n . p a t c h . i n . t o w n

The Most Sincere Pumpkin Patch in Town
[by victoria p.]

Rating: G

Summary: "You killed the Great Pumpkin!" "No, we killed the thing that was gonna keep the Great Pumpkin from coming."

Spoilers: None

Notes: Thanks to luzdeestrellas for looking it over.

Word count: 1,165 words

Date: October 31, 2007

"I hate Halloween," Dean muttered, breath wreathing like fog around his head. "Freaking amateur night."

For a second, he sounded so much like Dad that Sam had to close his eyes, take a deep breath. Which he regretted immediately, because the whole damn place smelled like fertilizer. He choked on the scent, hacking and spitting to get it out of his mouth. Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance, but he slapped Sam's back, like that was supposed to help somehow.

Sam waved him off, eyes watering, but he took small, secret comfort in the quick, warm weight of Dean's hand on his neck before it disappeared back into Dean's jacket pocket.

It was true, though, Sam thought. Tonight was like every other hunt he'd ever been on, except with the added annoyance of little kids in costumes and older kids hell-bent on mischief lurking in the darkness, and possibly getting in the way. The farm was far enough out of town that there hadn't been many trick-or-treaters, and it was late enough now that all the little kids should have been in bed, but there was always the possibility of rowdy teenagers, especially in places like this. They'd been lucky so far, but Sam knew how quickly--and how thoroughly--their luck could change.

They crouched behind the piled up bales of hay, waiting for the earth elemental ("it's a swamp monster, Sammy! Check it out!" Dean had said gleefully when they'd encountered it last night, emptying his clip into the thing's chest, but the bullets had had no effect on it whatsoever), to make its appearance.

Sam wasn't sure how much time had passed when he heard the rustling. Dean heard it too--his head came up, alert, a predator scenting prey--and they peered around the edge of their hiding place.

It was tall, taller than Sam, even, and shaped more like a bear than a human. Its shambling gait was deceptive--it could move pretty fast when it wanted to--and though there were apparently earth elementals that were harmless, even if they'd never actually run into a harmless one, this one had been stealing and killing kids every year in the week leading up to Halloween for the last five years.

"Hey, over here," Dean shouted, and when the thing was close enough, he set it on fire.

It went down with a wordless howl that made the hair on the back of Sam's neck stand up, and then he was being attacked at the knees by tiny hands and feet.

Sam stumbled back. "Hey!"

Dean swung around, face creased in a frown. "What the--" He shook his head and reached down, wrapping an arm around the waist of the kid attacking Sam's knees.

"You killed the Great Pumpkin!" the kid said tearfully, swinging out with his fist and clipping the side of Dean's jaw.

Sam bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh, but Dean said, "No, we killed the thing that was gonna keep the Great Pumpkin from coming."

The kid stopped flailing and looked up at Dean with wide eyes. "Really?"

Dean put on his sincere face, the one that nobody over the age of ten was ever taken in by, and said, "Really."

Sam held his breath, but the kid--who was probably about six or seven, and small for his age--beamed. "Cool."

"What's your name?" Dean asked, settling the kid on one of the hay bales.

"Billy. Billy Bronski."

"Hi, Billy." Dean stuck out a hand, and the kid shook it. "I'm Dean, and this is my brother, Sam."

The kid held his hand out to Sam, so he shook it. "Your mom is probably really worried about you," he said. "We should get you home."

"No!" The kid jerked away, turned to Dean, eyes wide and imploring. "We have to wait for the Great Pumpkin. I know he's gonna come. This is the most sincere pumpkin patch in town!"

It was the only pumpkin patch in town, but Sam managed to bite his lip before he said that. Instead, he said, "There's no such thing--"

"Don't even say it," Dean said.

"Yeah," Billy chimed in. "If you don't believe sincerely, the Great Pumpkin won't come."

Sam smiled thinly at the kid. "Excuse us for just one second." He grabbed Dean by the arm and led him a couple of feet away. "You're not seriously thinking of spending the night in this pumpkin patch with this kid, are you?" Dean shrugged, eloquently asking, Why not? without speaking a word. "But Dean--"

"Did it for you when you were his age."

"What?"

"You don't remember?" Dean laughed and rubbed his chin. "Oh, man, Dad was pissed. But you insisted. Said if all the bad things were real--"

"Some of the good things must be, too." He shook his head, remembering. "Man, I'd forgotten that. We had that old plaid blanket that smelled like puke."

Dean smiled. "And a thermos of hot chocolate, yeah."

Sam had sat in Dad's lap and Dean had leaned against his side, and they'd spent the night sitting out under the stars, waiting. Sam remembered falling asleep and waking up with the sun, still curled up in their father's lap. He'd smelled of wool and cold and hot cocoa, of gunpowder and gasoline--he'd smelled like safe and home and Dad, and Sam felt the sudden sting of tears at the reminder.

"Okay," he said, and turned back to Billy. "What about your parents?"

"They're away on business." The way he said it, rolling eyes and shrugging shoulders, was all too familiar to Sam. "Grandma was asleep when I left, and I'll be back before she wakes up."

"Okay," Sam said. "You got a blanket?"

Billy did, in fact, have a fleecy blue Dallas Cowboys blanket, along with two juice boxes and a bucket of candy, to which Dean added his peanut M&Ms. Billy sat up straight, peering out into the darkness and jumping excitedly at every rustle of the wind through the dry fall grass, but Sam sprawled next to Dean, their shoulders pressed warmly together, and ate all the Almond Joys when Billy said he was allergic to coconut.

Sam dozed on and off, waking for the last time with his head pillowed on Dean's thigh and the sky lightening above them. Billy was dozing in Dean's lap, and for a second everything was so familiar and so strange that Sam thought he might throw up. Dean smiled down at him and ruffled his hair, and then woke Billy up gently.

"Did he come? Did I miss it?"

"I'm sorry, Billy," Dean said. "He didn't."

"It's my fault," said Sam. "I had a few doubts, and he must have sensed that."

"It's okay," Billy said generously as they gathered up their belongings and walked back to the car. "Grown-ups always do. There's always next year."

Sam looked at Dean and sincerely wanted to believe. "Yeah, Billy, there is."

end

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