CHAPTER ONE ——  trick or treat

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       HALLOWEEN WAS A TIME OF LAUGHTER. Children ran from house to house hoping for the inevitable fate of an abundance of empty candy wrappers at the end of their beds; painfully bloated stomachs, and groaning with each movement. And who could forget the less enthusiastic ceremonial brushing of the pearly whites, which would of course be monitored meticulously by the parents.

Except nowadays Halloween was just like every holiday, child-friendly, ergo, beyond boring.

Excluding the few rascals that decided that the hardcore rebellions began with egging and t-ping unsuspecting old ladies' houses.

Either way, it was just like everything else in Elizabeth Russell's life, uninteresting and exceptionally dull. The spark of childlike joy that once came in heaps during holidays such as these was dying out. Fading quickly before her eyes. And sadly, she was okay with that.

Halloween just wasn't her thing anymore, even though once upon a time she'd shouted from the top of her lungs in her parents' old beat-up car, that "Halloween was a hundred times better than any Christmas.". It didn't last. She'd soon started singing another tune when the day of Baby Jesus' Birthday arrived because to a child everything is better than something at some point. Doesn't mean it'll stay that way though.

In fact, at the slowly maddening age of just twenty-four, she'd swear an oath that she despised all holidays in the Roman calendar. Even the day of her own cursed birth into this world. So of course she was hiding from all the plastic masks, miraculously white bed sheets with two parallel holes for eyes and of course the annoying polystyrene faux swords. Otherwise, she would have passed the point of scraping what was left of her sanity long ago.

No, she would not stoop to the level that those woeful fools, otherwise known as parents, had been dragged to, most likely from their satan spawn. Instead, she was sitting comfortably, sipping her coffee and eating the remainder of her now cold fries, from the opposite side of the fortunate glass barriers. She got to watch all the joy being sucked out of their gullible, foolhardy faces, into the souls of their hyper maniac spawn before them. It truly was a dinner with a show, and it was a thoroughly amusing experience. Especially after the trying day she'd suffered.

Elizabeth deserved to watch those before her suffer as penance for their usually over-joyous everyday lives they loved to spread the word about and shove down your throats. She'd spent less than a week in this small, close-knit town. And she'd hated every millisecond of it. The people, if not just the place itself, would drive her to the breaking point with their passive aggression for one another and constant snobbish behaviour towards who had what.

Animals she could do, books she could do, hell even monsters she could handle while still half asleep, but people, those were things beyond her comfort zone that even the thought of engaging in social interaction made her want to run far away to the Himalayan Hills. But that was perhaps because of a certain grumpy nanny she'd spent some of her childhood alongside, and more recently the past couple of years gone by. Socialising had stopped being something she loved doing a long time ago. Everything changed during that difficult year when she'd tried the impossible task of not speaking for the entire 365 days.

Unfortunately, she'd only lasted about a quarter of that time. So she'd be damned if she wasn't going to enjoy her piece and quiet. Or at least, small amounts of it thanks to the annoying group of balding, middle-aged men with more roundness to their stomachs than what could actually be a passible mislead to muscles in absence of light, who decided to make the Earth shake with their roars of laughter.

Although the sound resembled that of a pack of drunk hyenas more than lions, or perhaps a wilder version of Garfield, times four. "Can I get you anything else, hun?" The waitress asked. She'd been serving the blonde for three nights straight, ever since she'd entered the overly bright building on her second night in town. All for one job.

Usually, the woman would see her with a newspaper or even some old worn notebook she'd been clutching onto with a death grip. As if she was terrified that a gust of wind would blow it away, or more realistically disintegrate it into a pile of dust.

The young blonde scanned through the menu for what she knew would be the last time for the night, and for the entire week. Because by tomorrow morning she'd be gone, off to lick the wounds inflicted by her failure in some new town and new motel. "Just some pie, please. Cherry." She smiled at the kind lady, noticing how some of her dark locks were tinting grey at the roots. She too received a smile from the woman as the menu was taken away, soon replaced with a decent serving of cherry pie.

Liz enjoyed tucking in, letting the tartness of the cherries and the sweetness of the filling comfort her, alleviating all her worries. It was in her own company that she felt the most at peace. When she didn't have to put on one of her own invisible masks or pretend to be happy just so people wouldn't repeatedly ask her if she was okay. She loved not being asked stupid questions like that. Because she loved not answering with the heavily detailed lies she'd been concocting since her youth.

But it didn't last long. Because her phone was ringing. That annoying upbeat tune that played as a result of it being the factory setting ringtone, was doing its job of getting stuck in her head.

Quickly forcing down the last delicious piece of heaven, she left the money she owed, plus a reasonably acceptable twenty percent tip. The woman deserved it for having to serve her impatient self and the pack of animals situated three booths away from her. Stepping outside to call back the person who had eluded her calls and texts all day.

She waited until she heard his voice before she decided to moan at him.

"Well, hello! If it isn't the elusive Samuel Winchester? I better call the press, the human Sasquatch really does exist, he just doesn't pick up his phone." She spoke, first in a voice one would use to address a child, or when narrating a nature documentary. Then let her annoyance slip through at the last bit.

"I'm sorry, Liz. Busy day." He winced as he spoke over the phone as if the day he'd had really was that bad, or maybe he was just really sorry. "But I did call you a second ago and no answer so...we even?"

The blonde couldn't help but let out a scoffed chuckle at that, the bastard had tried to find a loophole.

"No, not even close. Been trying you for two days straight. Nada." Even though he couldn't see her she was flapping her arms around as she spoke. "Two days, Sam! I was starting to think something bad had happened!" Two fingers were held up to a brick wall.

"Okay, okay, I know, I know. No need to flail your arms around like I know you're probably doing right now." The arms soon fell to be beside her.

"I'm not 'flailing my arms around', I'm doing no such thing." Lie. "I'm sitting comfortably in my motel room, about to watch tv, thank you very much." Another lie.

Sam chuckled slightly through the phone, the sound quality wasn't great so he probably had it pushed right next to his mouth like he always tended to do. "Sure, Liz. I believe you." He didn't, they both knew that.

"Okay...maybe I'm not. But that's not exactly the background noise of a hardworking future lawyer now is it?" Feeling the upper hand in their conversation she let out a celebratory ha over the phone.

There was a conundrum of voices in the background of Sam's call, almost making it difficult for her to understand him. That was probably why he had the phone so close.

"Jess dragged me to some fraternity Halloween party." He may not have sounded happy about it, but the fact it was Jess' idea certainly made him sound brighter. "It's like the entire campus is here." Sam didn't do well in crowds and didn't feel comfortable like he was in a room of groups of friends and he was the only stranger. The outsider.

"You poor boy." Again the child-appropriate voice was back. But then replaced with the older sister voice she always used in defence of him. "But seriously, steer clear of the footballers, you don't wanna be chugging from those germ-ridden kegs. Gross." Her face scrunched up at the thought.

"Thanks for the mental image." Sam laughed, his line going fuzzier for a minute, probably to speak to one of his friends passing by.

"You're welcome, my dear Samuel." She liked calling him that. Making him feel grown up. Like she was trying to remind herself he wasn't ten anymore.

But the line got fuzzier again. This time for longer. It made her worry a bit, so she said his name twice on the phone trying to get to the bottom of it. She was ready to shout it out of frustration but luckily stopped just in time as Sam finally started speaking again. But it was only to say goodbye.

"Listen, Liz, I gotta go. Jess is after me so..." He hesitated as if he didn't want to stop the call, as if he actually missed her. Which he did. But Jess was important, even Liz knew how much he loved the girl. So she was all too happy to let him go off to his gorgeous girlfriend.

"Of course, we can talk later! Go have fun, Sam!" She wanted to sound enthusiastic. She hoped she had.

The noises in the background of Sam's call were getting obnoxiously louder, annoying even. But he made sure he could be heard clearly so he could wish his friend a proper goodbye. "Yeah, talk soon, Lizzie."

And then the line went dead. And she was alone again.

       A QUICK VISIT TO THE LOCAL CONVENIENCE STORE led to a treasure trove of junk food. Potato chips, a few candy bars and a bag of cookies.

She was going to spend her last night in town in style. Watching crappy soap operas she hated and stuffing her face. Even grabbing a bottle of root beer so she didn't have to disgust her tastebuds with the motel water.

She hoped Days of our Lives would be on because that one was her favourite to hate. Chastising the characters on their actions and poor choices was one of her favourite past times. The teenagers on that show were the best entertainment.

But before she could do any of that she had to do her laundry. She was cold without her jacket but walking around with it bloodstained wasn't ideal. So she made a mental note to do that as soon as she got to the motel. Her rental was parked near her room, but before she left the car she sent an email to one Robert Singer with all her research, as he'd asked her to do when she called him out of the blue asking for help. The man was a veteran hunter, and she was a rookie compared to him.

If she was going to get to the bottom of what happened, she needed help. And Bobby was the only one she was convinced would help her. He was also the only one she would ever ask.

Eventually, she finally left the strange comfort of the vehicle and began her tiny trek to her door. Fishing through her jacket pocket to find her elusive motel room key, she eventually rejoiced at finding it. Glad she hadn't dropped it in the struggle she faced earlier, as well as possibly losing it inside the car.

But when she began to unlock the door, instead of the lock clicking open, it wouldn't push any further the right way. She let out a frustrated breath, hoping she hadn't broken the lock. But also hoping she didn't break the key trying to unlock it. So in an act of frustration, she pushed down on the handle expecting nothing to happen she was shocked to find the door had opened.

Now there is one thing you must know about Elizabeth Russell, she always, always, locks her doors. And right that second she realised why her key wasn't working.

It was already unlocked. And it wasn't her who'd done it.

So that left only one reason why that had happened. Someone, or even possibly something, was in her motel room. But they wouldn't be for long.

The small handgun she'd left in her glove box was conveniently in her hand, hidden by the jacket she held over it. She knew it was empty, that's why she'd grabbed it, she'd needed to reload it, preparing for when she left town. But whoever was in there didn't.

Doing a double take on the door of the room she made sure she'd definitely got the right number and wasn't going to make a complete fool of herself. Unfortunately, it was the right one, which meant she was gonna have to put her big girl pants on once again and brave the danger on the other side of the door.

Creeping through the door she tried to be as quiet as possible. Having figured out the creakiest steps in the room on the day she arrived, she made sure to avoid all of the loudest ones to endure she stayed stealthy. But she could see the light of the tv through the foggy glass divider, and a blurry figure in front of it. Whoever it was, the jerk was sitting in her room like it was theirs, laughing along with what she believed to be cartoons.

Carefully she tiptoed until she was right behind the person, her gun aimed at the back of their head. Until she decided she wanted the intruder's full attention. So she pushed it until it was situated in the person's short hair, and cocked it.

The silence was deafening. Only the tv made noise now, the person, who she believed to be a man even in the semi-darkness, had ceased the laughing.

"Wanna tell me why you're in my motel room?" She asked the stranger, hoping she wouldn't have to explain that she couldn't paint the walls red with their blood because her gun had no bullets. But also hoping the creep got the idea not to sneak into someone's room.

A gruff voice answered, one she had ingrained in her memory, one she'd spent the past two years trying to erase from her mind. But like no time had passed, there it was, in the back of her mind, making her stupidly feel whole again. "Well, I was hoping for some good old-fashioned Southern hospitality."

And with that sentence, she immediately lowered her gun, and, with her other hand, slapped the side of the intruder's head. The satisfaction of hearing them shout in pain was immense. She stomped over to the table beside the tv, slamming her gun down on it and turning on the lamp that was situated on top. The light soon illuminated more of the person's face. Their stupid, annoying face. And also one equally annoying smile that she wanted to tear off.

"You don't go breaking into other people's motel rooms, Dean!" At that moment she was frustrated, a little angry, and tired. A deadly combination for anyone around her. And he was gonna be the one she took it all out on. "What were you gonna do when I walked in, steal someone's cat and say "I've been expecting you" like some Bond villain!"

The older man thought about that, it sounded like a great idea. One that he was disappointed he hadn't thought of first.

Liz could see the cogs turning, and could practically smell the smoke coming out of his ears as he pondered the idea. "Don't even think about it!" She said authoritatively, pointing an accusing finger at his chest.

She stood over him now, blocking his view of the television. The yellow-tinted light of the lamp shone against her already golden hair. He couldn't help but notice how it was shorter than the last time he'd seen her and didn't like how well it suited her.

"What? No hug, no french welcome." He humoured, his shoulders lifting in response to his arms shrugging in the way they always did when he was trying to get a few laughs. "I'll even take a french kiss if that's all that's on offer." His smirk was met with a candy bar to the face. Hoping a sharp edge would be brave enough to scar the face of the obnoxiously handsome older Winchester.

Liz decided she deserved a drink. Sadly she didn't have anything strong enough. Just root beer. Why she'd been too much of a coward to buy the real stuff she didn't know but it was infuriating her.

Returning from the kitchen area to the couch she signalled for the man to shoo, but he didn't, so she settled for the next best thing. Like the petty woman she was she resulted in squishing next to him in a slump. Her snacks were dumped on top of her in a heap, a comical and ironic sloth mug containing her soda in her hand. Sipping from it like a moody child, wishing it could have the same mind-numbing powers of real booze.

Alas, not all wishes come true.

"Wow, guess someone had an interesting day." A statement, not a question. He was able to read her like an open book, just like his brother. However, if that saying was true then up to that point she would be the only book Dean Winchester has ever read in his life.

A glare was sent over the mug, her eyes the only things visible as she continued to take her tiny sips of discontent. "What are you even doing here?" She sighed, still glaring, not taking her eyes off him for even a second. "Last time I saw you, you were following your Dad around like a German Shepherd. And he's not here. Right?" She couldn't help but look over her shoulder, eyes going across the whole space of the room. Relaxing when she found nothing.

Dean let out a breath. "No, he's not. Although it'd be great if he was because then I could interrogate him on his whereabouts the past week." He turned his attention to her, watching with a smile on his face as Liz failed miserably at opening her bag of chips, her face scrunched up in concentration. Mostly she just didn't want to rip the bag and have them go everywhere. She didn't want to spend her last night cleaning. "But that's kind of why I'm here."

At that, she quickly looked away at her trying task. Not liking how that sentence was phrased.

Because another thing you should know about Elizabeth Russell is, just as the estranged Winchester brothers could read her quicker and more efficiently than a pamphlet, she could do the same to them. And Dean's serious voice wasn't something that was known for being justified for a friendly catch-up, nothing was it something to sweep away under a rug. When Dean was serious, she knew something was going on.

The two focused solely on one another. Liz offered Dean a potato chip without moving her gaze after she'd finally torn it open and had a handful herself of course.

It looked like it was going to be a long night. And it was certainly going to be one that would change the rest of her life.

——— APOLLO SPEAKS ———
I revamped this chapter and the next few will be the same, I kept cringing at the old chapters so I thought a change was in order and reducing how many I wrote for each episode. My babies are back and more adorable than ever, also their relationship is a little bit less strained than the original draft because even though it's obvious something's happened between them they're still good friends so they don't show it. Before it was way too damn obvious what was gonna happen between them, now I'm trying to be more subtle and focus on their friendship first.