A/N I thought I'd write a Halloween fic. This is my first wee!chester fic that I'm posting, so I hope I do them justice (I have another one in the works, but I'm waiting until I can update my other chapter fics first). I hope to have the next chapter up tomorrow and have the whole thing posted in the next couple of days. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: "Supernatural" and all the characters you recognize do not belong to me. But a girl can dream, right?

Summary: He had never done this before. 10-year-old Sam had yet to even see a real ghost, and now he was out on Halloween, by himself, hunting the real deal. But he had no choice. Dean needed him.


Initiation by Deana W.

OK Sam, what are you doing here? Dad's going to kill you… unless this stupid ghost kills you first. Oh how did I ever get us in this mess?

Sam took a deep breath as he traipsed through the halls of the giant, dilapidated and incidentally very haunted, house. With every step the ten-year-old berated himself for going in the first place and thought of the irony of it all because really, no one wanted Sam to start hunting yet, not Dad, definitely not Dean and especially not Sam. And yet, here he was, on Halloween night of all times, by himself, hunting a very angry spirit. Well, there was more to it than that, much more.

You can do this Sam, stop being such a wuss. Dean needs you.

He silently encouraged himself to continue, despite the fact that his hands were shaking. He tried not to tremble so much, but he was freaking out. Only two years ago did Sam learn that ghosts, and monsters and crap even existed, he was still very new to the whole hunting thing. He had never done this before and really didn't know what he was doing.

OK, sure, he knew how to fire a gun, he knew that rock salt and iron repelled spirits, he knew that most ghosts could be vanquished by salt and burning the bones, he knew every haunting was different and sometimes had a different set of rules than the norm. In theory, he knew a lot, but in practice… that was another story. Dad had set up a few training exercises, where Dad would simulate a hunt through role playing, but even then, either Dad or Dean would be the ghost while the other teamed up with Sam. On the field, he had never done this before. He had yet to even see a real ghost, and now he was out alone… on Halloween… by himself… no back up, nothing… hunting the real deal.

Not even in training did Sam ever fly solo. And up until tonight Sam didn't think he ever would, considering that Dean protected him like the Secret Service protected the President. Dean always had Sam's back, no matter what. Making sure Sam was safe and happy was always Dean's first priority. Sam often rolled his eyes at that, he was a big kid now—he didn't need his big brother watching out for him all the time. But other times, especially when Dad was gone on a hunt and it was late at night in a strange place, Sam was secretly glad. At the moment, Sam wished more than anything that Dean was there to protect him and be the big brother now. But if he were, there'd be no need to be wandering the halls of the haunted white elephant of a house.

And Sam really didn't want to hunt at all. He hated the training, he hated that Dad was a hunter and that Dean was becoming a hunter and that Sam was expected to one day take part in the family business. Shoot, he already helped with research, something he was remarkably good at for a ten-year-old kid. That part he didn't mind too much, it was the danger and uncertainty involved with hunting that Sam hated the most. It was scary, being holed up in some motel while Dad's gone hunting, not knowing if he was coming home. Or worse, staying with Uncle Bobby or Pastor Jim when Dad took Dean with him, not knowing if he'd ever see them again. Anything could happen on a hunt.

Sam swallowed hard at that thought and tried not to let his imagination get the better of him as he shone his flashlight down the dark, dusty halls, but he couldn't help but think of all the worst case scenarios that could happen.

Don't be such a chicken Sam; you can do this.

There were other things to hate about the family business. It was a shitty life and Sam wished he didn't have to be a part of it. It wasn't fair.

With their lifestyle, it was no wonder he never made any lasting friendships despite the fact he was easy going and people liked him. The thing was that, not only did dad's 'job' force them to move around a lot, but their stupid life meant Sam had to lie to everyone about everything. He couldn't exactly tell his newfound friends that his Dad hunted monsters for a living, they got their income through fraud and hustling, and that for Sam, homework had nothing to do with math and science, and everything to do with reading up on the history of a haunted house or looking into the lore surrounding whatever creature Dad was hunting.

Sam hated it all and wished he was still ignorant to what was really out there hiding in the dark. But no, he just had to be the cat that curiosity killed, he just had to be the kid who had to know everything and stick his nose where it didn't belong and read Dad's journal. Flash forward two years later, and the same curiosity that introduced Sam into the world of the supernatural managed to get Sam in the pickle he was in now.

He didn't want to be there in the first place, but Sam really had no choice. If he backed out now, if he didn't do this, he'd be in more trouble than he could possibly imagine. He'd never forgive himself if he didn't do this. There was too much at stake. Besides, it was his fault in the first place, thanks to his never-ending curiosity and desire to win friends and influence people—or at least desire to not have his ass handed to him every recess at school.

If he just minded his own business and didn't care so much about what the other kids at school thought about him, and just rolled with the punches, then this wouldn't have happened. He and Dean could be watching scary Halloween movies blissfully unaware of the angry spirit that resided in the house. Sam wouldn't have to hunt before he was ready, all alone and most importantly, Sam would know where his brother was.

As Sam slowly explored the house, he wished that Dad was there, although if Dad were there, Sam wouldn't know who he should be afraid of more—Dad or the ghost. He tried to swallow back his fear. He couldn't be afraid. He had to stay calm and stay focused.

You can do this Sam. Remember what Dad taught you. Remember what Dean taught you. Sure, you're alone this time and this is the real thing, but you can do this. You have to.

As Sam turned a corner, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and the temperature drop to the point where he could see his own breath. Inhaling sharply, Sam slowly turned around, terrified of what he'd see as his mind frantically tried to remember how to shoot a gun, which was silly because Dean taught him how to shoot and they had target practice all the time. It was something Sam was good at, and getting better at every time. But in his panic and inexperience his mind drew a blank about everything.

But as he turned around, he saw that there was nothing behind him. He felt a cold chill shudder through him and he froze in place. When the feeling passed and the temperature returned to normal, Sam leaned against the wall and exhaled the breath he had been holding.

"OK, that wasn't so bad," he whispered shakily, finding comfort in the sound of his voice as it penetrated the oppressive silence. He gave a low, shrill, humorless laugh as he tried to convince himself that everything was going to be fine—that he was just being a sissy.

He startled as a loud banging noise echoed through the darkness. Sam couldn't tell what made the noise, nor could he tell where it came from, he looked around frantically for the source of the noise to no avail.

"Dean?" Sam called, blushing at the high-pitched squeak his voice seemed to make. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Dean!"

There was another noise, this time louder and while every instinct told him to run away, Sam forced himself to stay put, gather his wits and keep going. Dean needed him.

"Dean! Where are you?" he called again, hoping his search was coming to an end. The silence that followed terrified him more than anything.

I'm sorry Dean, this is all my fault.


A/N Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think, and Happy Halloween!