~*****~

"How many razor blades did they find again?" I ask as Dean looks around the kitchen.

"Two on the floor, one in his stomach, and one was stuck in his throat." Mrs. Wallace explains through her tears. "He swallowed four of them. How is that even possible?" I glance over at Dean as he opens up the oven. "Candy was never in the oven." Mrs. Wallace hisses.

"We just have to be thorough, Mrs. Wallace." Dean simply says.

"Did the police find any razors in the rest of the candy?" Sam asks.

The woman shakes her head. "No... I mean, I don't know. 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." I say softly. From the corner of my eye I see Dean hold up a hex bag. "Mrs. Wallace, did Luke have any enemies?"

"Enemies?" Mrs. Wallace echoes.

"Anyone who might have held a grudge against him?"

"What do you mean?" She snaps.

"Co-workers. Neighbors." She doesn't answer me. "Maybe a woman?"

"Are you suggesting an affair?" Mrs. Wallace snaps.

"Is it possible?"

"No! Luke would never!"

"I'm sure he would never swallow four razor blades." I retort harshly. "Ma'am, we have to consider all possibilities."

"If someone were to kill my husband, don't you think they'd find a better way than a piece of candy he might eat?" Mrs. Wallace asks.

"And there lies the problem, Mrs. Wallace. He did in fact eat the candy. So someone who knew him well enough to know that he would. If you can think of someone-- anyone-- give us a call, and let us know." I say irritably. "Gentlemen. Let's be on our way."

Sam and Dean are gazing at me through wide eyes as I step around Mrs. Wallace.

~*****~

My fork is dangling between my lips as I'm hunched over our books while researching. Mary is sitting on her play mat with her toys, banging them around when Dean steps back into the motel room-- stuffing his face full of candy. "Really? After that guy choked down all those razor blades?" I question.

"It's Halloween, baby," Dean comments while pressing a chocolatey kiss to my forehead. "I'm takin' the kid out to bag us some candy."

"You will not." I retort. "She gets enough of Halloween as it is. It's everyday for us."

"Yeah, I agree with her." Sam mentions.

"Ah, don't be downers." Dean comments as he plops onto the ground besides Mary. "Anything interesting?"

"Well, we're on a witch-hunt, that's for sure." Sam sighs. "But this isn't your typical hex bag."

"No?" Dean asks as he peers at it.

"No," I nod and lift up the small herb. "Goldthread-- an herb that's been extinct for two hundred years. And this is Celtic," I say as I lift up the coin. "And I don't mean some new age knock-off. Looks like the real deal-- like six hundred years old real. And uh..." I snatch the bone from Dean's hand and quickly set it back onto the cloth with a grimace. "That is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby."

"Oh, gross--" Dean grimaces and wipes his hands on his pants.

"Relax, man, it's like, at least a hundred years old." Sam explains.

"Oh, right, like that makes it better." Dean retorts. "I mean, it's gotta be an insult to her, right? You hear that?" He turns his gaze onto the infant. She swings her gaze up at him. "Witches are so freakin' skeevy." She makes a noise in her throat as if she's agreeing before going back to her toys.

"Well, it takes a pretty powerful one to put a bag like this together. More juice that we've ever dealt with before, that's for sure." Sam explains. "What about you? Find anything on the victim?"

"This Luke Wallace-- he was so vanilla that he made vanilla seem spicy." Dean states. "I can't find any reason why somebody would want this guy dead."

Mary throws her toy and grasps at her feet and tumbling back. "And that means it's time for exercising."

"C'mon, let me take the kid out for come candy!" Dean asks as I help Mary stretch her legs. "We'll dress her up like the great pumpkin!"

"Excuse me?" I ask with a chuckle.

"The great pumpkin?" Sam echoes with a laugh.

"It's the Great Pumpkin, guys!" Dean cries.

~*****~

I'm alarmed when we hear about the girl getting boiled alive at a party that same night. Luckily, the body was gone, so I was free to enter the crime scene with the baby attached to my torso, under the guise I had no babysitter. Dean stops us when we get to the bottom. "I got this one." Dean says softly.

"Two words." I hum. "Jail bait."

"I would never!" Dean retorts in an offended tone.

"We'll look around." I murmur to Dean.

Sam is rooting through the cushions and I manage to find a hex bag in the couch. I hold it up in Dean's eyesight and pocket it.

Back at the motel, we're back to researching. "I'm telling you, both these vics are squeaky clean." Dean explains. "There is no reason for a wicked-bitch payback."

"Maybe cause it's not about them." I murmur as I flip through an old book.

"Okay? And?" Dean gestures for me to continue.

"This witch isn't working a grudge. Maybe they're working a spell. Check this out--" I get up from the bed and set the book onto the table. "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 Thirty-First."

"Halloween?"

"Exactly."

"What exactly are the blood sacrifices for?" Dean asks.

"If I'm right, and I so hope I'm not, this witch is summoning a demon. And not just any demon-- Samhain." I explain.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Dean asks.

"Dean, Samhain is the damn origin of Halloween." Sam explains. "The Celts believed that October thirty-first 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, faces carved into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcised centuries ago."

"So even though Samhain took a trip downstairs, the tradition stuck." Dean retorted.

"Exactly. Only now, instead of demons and blood orgies, Halloween is all about kids, candy, and costumes." Sam says.

"Okay, so some witch wants to raise Samhain and take back the night?" Dean asks.

"Dean, this is serious." I express.

"I am serious." Dean shoots back.

"We're talking heavyweight witchcraft. This ritual can only be performed every six hundred years." Sam says.

"And the six hundred year marker rolls around..."

"Tomorrow tonight," I answer.

"Naturally." Dean sighs. "Well, it sure is a lot of death and destruction for one demon."

"That's cause he likes company." I mention. "Once he's raised, Samhain can do some raising of his own."

"Raising what, exactly?" Dean asks.

"Dark, evil crap. And lots of it." Sam states. "I mean, they follow him around like the friggin' pied piper."

"So, we're talking ghosts." Dean asks. Sam and I hum. "Zombies?" We hum again. "Leprechauns?"

"Dean." I hiss.

"Those little dudes are scary. Small hands." Dean expresses.

"Look, it just starts with ghosts and ghouls." Sam says seriously. "This sucker keeps on going, by night's end, we are talking every awful thing we've ever seen, everything we fight all in one place."

"It's gonna be a slaughter house." Dean mutters.

I nod. "Which is why I'm taking the baby to Bobby's real quick." I explain softly.

Dean cocks his head. "How are you gonna get all the way to South Dakota and back in time?"

I give him a small smile. "Let's just say God fingerbanging my mom gave me some perks." I explain before packing up Mary's diaper bag.

"What--" Dean fumbles with his chair as I lift up the bag. With that same, strange fluttering noise, I appear in front of Bobby's door step.

I pound on the door and beam when Bobby answers, his face twisted in confusion. "Weren't you in--"

"I'll explain later. Big time problem, baby can't be near it." I explain hastily and hand him the bag and the infant.

"Okay--" Bobby retorts as I step off the porch. "Guess, we'll be here... Playing... I don't know, chess?"

I beam in response before returning to the hotel room, where Dean whirls around in shock. "What the hell?"

~*****~

The next day, I had to endure speaking with Mrs. Wallace again-- she was adamant with talking only to Dean, so I stayed behind him. Once we got into the car, Dean tugged out a bag of candy. "Seriously?" I ask. "You're gonna get heartburn eating all that."

"Oh please, this is bush league." Dean retorts while shoving the first piece of candy into his mouth.

I watch in amazement as he horfs down the entire bag. I don't know how long I'd been watching him, but sure enough, he shoves the last piece into his mouth and tosses the wrapped onto the seat between us. He grasps his stomach and groans. "See?" I say haughtily. "Here, have some tums." I laugh as he grumbles. My cell begins to ring, and I answer while Dean suffers. "Hello?"

"Got anything?" Sam asks.

"Dean spoke with Mrs. Razorblade again, and we've been sitting out in front of her house for hours, and we've got a big, steamy pile of nothing."

"Look, Lottie, someone planted those hex bags, someone with access to both houses. There's got to be some connection." Sam expresses.

"Yeah, well, I hope we find him soon, cause Dean is whining like a little-- son of a bitch--" I murmur as I watch as a blonde travels towards Mrs. Wallace's house.

"Tell him to quit whining." Sam retorts.

"No, I mean, son of a bitch." I snap. "The blonde girl from last night-- Jail Bait--" Dean groans at the comment. "She's walking into the Wallace House."