A/N: So I haven't written anything in a long time - I have three jobs, I'm a busy girl! But fanfic is like the sea - once ya get it in yer blood, it's there fer good. :) So this little one-shot popped into my head around Halloween and I thought I'd post it. Total humorous fluff. Feel free to review - it's always appreciated. :)

WARNING: A few (like, three) swears. That's it. But if you are vehemently opposed to foul language then you might want to steer clear. And lock yourself in a bunker of some sort, cause really - everyone swears. :)

"Dude, I hate Halloween…" Dean mumbled, mouth still full of his nearly finished burger. "All these clueless dumb-asses, acting like ghosts and vampires and werewolves are fun…"

Sam grimaced at the glimpse of masticated beef and special sauce in his brother's mouth but didn't respond. They were enjoying their fast-food dinner perched on the hood of the Impala, watching groups of costumed children run up and down the streets of small-town Westfield, Carolina.

Dean had refused to eat in the restaurant, in protest against the Hanson song that had been playing when they arrived. There had been some words exchanged with the teenage employee on rather or not the band was a true sign of the coming end of days, as well as the dubious salvation of Metallica, and it was decided upon that they would eat outside in the mild southern weather.

Finishing up his fries, Dean crumpled the waste together and made a show of tossing it in a nearby trashcan. Sam, having finished his salad and chicken sandwich already, took this as a sign that they were getting ready to leave. He was moving toward the passenger side when several high-pitched voices piped up nearby.

"Trick or treat!"

Dean raised his eyebrows and turned slightly to face the small group of children in costume. The foremost trick-or-treater, a girl in a rabbit costume, grinned up at him and held her bag open hopefully.

"We don't have any candy," Sam interjected, "Sorry."

"That means we get to play a trick," Bunny Girl said stubbornly. "That's the rules."

"You're kidding, right?" Dean said incredulously. The bunny girl's smile faltered and she looked briefly confused.

"I mean, first of all, you've got this whole 'trick or treat' thing mixed up. You're supposed to go from house to house, knocking on doors. Notice-" he gestured at the Impala and Sam, who was sighing and hiding his face behind his hands "- we do not have a house. And if you even think about knocking on my ridiculously stunning classic automobile, Santa won't bring you any presents this year."

Bunny girl gasped, and a little vampire behind her exchanged an anxious glance with a nearby gypsy.

"You don't know Santa," the vampire challenged shakily. Sam groaned and tried to signal his brother to just shut up and get in the car, but Dean ignored him.

"Maybe not, but I doubt he exists anyway – I mean, really, I've seen a lot of weird stuff, but a big fat man that slides down chimneys? Nah."

Bunny Girl looked crestfallen and the vampire began to sob breathily, white face paint smearing as he rubbed at his eyes.

"Are ya happy now, Dean," Sam deadpanned, shooting Dean a disapproving look, "You've managed to ruin Halloween, and possibly Christmas, in only four sentences. And you've made them cry."

Dean had the good graces to appear slightly ashamed for a moment before the petulant, annoyed look returned.

"Come on! I mean, I have a valid point! And shouldn't you have some sort of supervision to keep you from approaching people like us? Where the hell are your parents?

Vampire boy wailed louder, and the little girl dressed as a gypsy whimpered and began to cry as well. Bunny Girl narrowed her eyes at Dean in an accusatory look.

"You said a bad word!" She admonished, her fuzzy ears flopping as she jutted her chin forward.

"Did not," Dean protested.

"You said h-e-double-hockey-sticks," Bunny Girl insisted.

Dean groaned, running his fingers through his hair and frantically searching for something to save him from a rapidly deteriorating situation. Sam was snorting quietly behind him, and was obviously going to be no help whatsoever.

"Look, just – stop crying, okay? Come on," he pleaded, trying not to sound desperate. "Those are some pretty scary costumes, huh? You're, like, a dog or something, aren't you," he asked, addressing Bunny Girl with a forced smile.

"I'm a bunny!"

"Yeah, I knew that," Dean scoffed. "You're a vampire, right," he asked, turing his attention to the boy behind her. "I mean, you've got the teeth all wrong, not enough fangs, but I can tell what you were trying for."

The little vampire stopped crying, staring at him with an expression more bewildered than comforted. The little gypsy cocked her head to the side and stared at him.

"Vampires only gots two teef," she said confidently, the opportunity to correct an adult temporarily trumping her need to cry.

"Well, yeah, in movies and stuff," Dean huffed.

"Dean –" Sam said warningly, alarmed at the direction the conversation had taken. Dean ignored him.

"In real life, though, they have a lot of fangs, up to fifty, and all retractable." He paused, apparently oblivious to the horrified looks on the children's faces. "Do you know what retractable means?"

The vampire and the gypsy both began crying again with renewed vigor and a touch of genuine fear. Bunny's bottom lip trembled precariously.

"It's okay," Sam rushed to reassure, stepping up beside his moron of a brother. "There aren't any vampires."

"Yeah," Dean chimed in, ignoring Sam's withering glare and silent command to shut the hell up! "No real vampires here – and if there were, me and my brother would kill 'em before they could hurt you."

At this confident statement, the little vampire shrieked in terror and fled back towards the street, candy scattering as his arms flailed. The gypsy followed on his heels, calling piteously for her mama.

"Aw, fuck…" Dean ground out.

This final verbal insult was apparently too much for Bunny Girl, and tears spilled down her pink pained cheeks.

"You're a bad, bad man," she shouted, little face scrunched up in anger. Pulling back one sneakered foot, she kicked him sharply in the shin and ran, screaming "I need a grown up! I need a grown up!" after her friends.

Sam guffawed loudly, shaking his head at his brother, who was pressing a hand to his stinging shin and swearing.

"You just got beat up by a little girl in a bunny costume," he laughed

"Just – shut the hell up, Sam," Dean growled, kicking the ground as though it had caused three first graders to run away weeping.

"Just – just look on the bright side," Sam gasped between chuckles, "If you ever run out of things to hunt, you can always start a career as a department store Santa."

"Sam, I will hurt you."

"Or a kindergarten crossing guard."

"That's it. You asked for this, Sammy," Dean threatened, his threatening tone ruined somewhat by the chuckle he was trying to hold back.

Sam grinned, cupped a hand to his mouth, and shouted "I need a grown up! I need a grown up!"


Several blocks away, a little vampire, a little gypsy, and a little bunny were being lavished with candy by concerned neighbors who had been moved by the children's tears and sad, smudged make-up. They each returned home that night with more chocolate than their bags could hold, and later hatched a ploy to cry every Halloween.

And maybe Christmas.

A/N: Thanks for reading :)