Title - Trick or Treat

Summary - It was Sam's first time trick or treating. It was Dean's first time without his mom. It was John's first time trying to bring some normal in his sons' lives.

"Trick or Treat"

The year Mary died, John didn't celebrate the holidays that followed with his sons. Thanksgiving consisted of his old Marine friend Mike and his wife cooking dinner. They set a placemat and fixed a plate for him, but John didn't show. He was busy at a psychic's house trying to figure out what happened to his wife. That Christmas, John half-hearted handed both his sons an unwrapped gift with a sad smile as he argued with Mike over what really happened to Mary. That's when his buddy tried to convince John to seek professional help. Within the next month, John would pack up his boys and leave.

The next year when Dean was five and Sammy one, John ignored Halloween by locking himself and his boys up in a nameless town in a shithole apartment and giving each boy a bag of candy. At Thanksgiving, John bought three frozen turkey dinners, and they sat around a rickety table. That Christmas, he wrapped a present each for his sons in newspaper. None of the other holidays seemed important.

The next Halloween, Sammy was two and Dean six. The smallest boy ran off in a goodwill store towards a rack of costumes. His chocolate smeared face lit up in delight as he tugged the fabric to a bear getup. John looked between his sons before shrugging his shoulders with a sigh. Grabbing the costume, he made sure it was Sammy's size. Albeit a size bigger, John took it anyways and told his oldest to pick one out.

There John sat in the living room of the duplex they rented as Sammy's giggling rang throughout the tiny house. Dean's grunts of frustration soon followed. John, on the other hand, sat ready with his leather jacket snug on his shoulders and boots on his feet while waiting for his sons.

He'd only once took Dean trick or treating. He was two when he and Mary took their oldest out dressed as a green M&M. With his pumpkin pail swinging at his side, the kid ran through lawns to the next house. After a half hour of sheer excitement, the kid pouted until his father picked him up and carried him to each house. The next two years, John allowed Mary to take Dean with a friend and her son while he passed out candy. The third year, he sat on the porch of their home with a tiny Sammy clad in a Tiger costume half-asleep in his carrier by his father's feet.

Snapping out of his reverie, John glanced over at his oldest in a cowboy outfit with two plastic bags in either hand. He adjusted his hat on his head as he looked wearily over at his father. The kid didn't seem ecstatic in the least. Mere seconds passed until a pink blur half skipped, half waddled, half ran into the living room before tripping in front of Dean. The pinkness giggled

Sammy turned his head to look at his father, his head engulfed in pink. His son, of all the people, had to fall in love with a pink teddy bear outfit when there was a green one in his actual size. The hood slipped down off his head revealing his mess of brown hair. Dean reached down and pulled it back on.

"Okay, Sammy, we're going trick or treating. We're walking house to house. At each house, you ring the doorbell," John explained as he knelt down in front of his youngest, "say 'trick or treat', and they give you candy. You say thank you, and we move onto the next house. Got that?"

With a vigorous nod and a bright smile, the kid's hood slipped off his head once more. John chuckled as he reached to pull his youngest close to his chest to adjust the pink hood. He got up and made his way towards the coffee table to pick up two flashlights. Handing one to Dean, he slid the other one into his jacket pocket. His hand slipped behind him to make sure his gun was secured in-between the flesh of his back and the band of his jeans.

The Winchester boys marched out of the duplex hand-in-hand with Sammy in the middle. John carried Sammy's plastic bag for him. Their first stop was the house next door. It was only a few minutes passed six, so there weren't any trick or treaters out yet. Letting go of Sammy's sticky hand, John gave the boy his bag and a small nudge up the driveway towards the front door. Except, as the youngest marched forth in anticipation, Dean stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes wandered back to look at his father.

"Deeeeeeeean!" whined Sammy as he tried with all his might to pull his brother up the driveway with no avail.

John saw the panic cloud Dean's eyes, the hurt wash through them. Rubbing a hand over his growing stubble, John reached out with his free hand and gently pried one of Sammy's hands from Dean's arm. The Winchesters then proceeded to march forward towards the blue house. At the door, John pressed the doorbell as he glanced at his sons.

An elderly woman answered the door with a bowl of candy overflowing. Her eyes squinted slightly from behind her glasses as she took in the small boys in front of her. A smile graced her features as Sammy screamed at the top of his lungs, "TWEAT TWICK!"

"My dear, aren't you a jolly little girl? Here are two candies for you and two candies for your cowboy big brother."

She dropped two sweets into his bag as Dean looked over at his father in concern before resting his gaze on his tiny brother. A boy - not a girl like the elderly woman said. John chuckled before saying thank you and leading the boys back towards the road.

"It's trick or treat, Sammy, not treat trick."

"Tweat twick!" the toddler exclaimed stubbornly.

As they walked down the road gathering candy from various houses - most of whom told Sammy what an adorable little girl he was - other kids started to flood the streets. They were dressed in a variety of colors and costumes as they skipped from door to door and getting high from sugar. Half way down the block, Dean bravely took Sammy to a door by himself. Standing on the edge of the road, his flashlight on and eyes glued to his sons, John heard his youngest scream, "TWEAT TWICK!" at every house.

On their way back, Sammy grew tired and drug his feet on the asphalt. His greetings became less enthusiastic as his complaining started to take hold. He stubbornly wouldn't wear his hood and whined until John carried him from house to house. He allowed his big brother to say the greeting. By the time they were back at the duplex, Sammy was asleep in his father's arms and drooling on his leather jacket.

He put the boys to bed and sat the candy on the kitchen counter for the next day. John dug through the pieces and grabbed a few for himself before treading off to bed with thoughts of Mary dressed up and running through lawns with Dean. He could image her giggling and taking great time to pick out the perfect costumes for everyone. It was like she was a child on her first excursion of trick or treating each year.

For three months after that, whenever Sammy saw Pastor Jim or Bobby or someone, he would yell, "TWEAT TWICK" and open his hands for candy. They would laugh along with John as Dean would simply roll his eyes.

Author's Notes - Happy Halloween! Leave me a review in place of candy!