Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any related characters. Those all belong to Kripke and the CW. With art and banner by the lovely mandraco.
Author's Notes: Written for spn-bigpretzel's Halloween Reverse Micro Bang, based on the art by the lovely mandraco. I wanted this piece to be something in between funny and a d'aww moment. I hope that shows. And, somewhere along the way, this became a slight fusion with Ernest Scared Stupid… um, yeah, which I also do not own. Was totally inspired by the first episode we met Loki/Gabriel in. And I also spend the entirety of this fic referring to him as Loki instead of Gabriel, which was a deliberate choice based on the situation. To see the lovely art, please visit my livejournal at (remove spaces) patriciatepes. livejournal. com

Like Taking Candy from Loki

He could smell it in the air, the unmistakable scent that was Halloween. It smelled sweet, even chocolately. And frankly, that was his favorite scent.

The good thing about being a trickster? The pre-determined sweet tooth. And boy had candy improved over the years. On a day that had once been devoted to harvesting, now devoted to the handing out of free sweet treats, Gabriel—or Loki, as he was going by these days—was practically giddy. He had a tradition, of sorts, that occurred every October thirty-first, and he was going to make damned sure that it continued on—impending rising of Lucifer be damned.

He sat on a perch of a low, brick wall that served a dual purpose of being decorative to the rather nice house up the hill from it and being a property boundary. He was invisible to the naked eye, and his own set of peepers was peeled to the little costumed rugrats that ran up and down the sidewalk. Oh, the costumes were interesting this year. Vampires, mummies, lots and lots of zombies… all the movie versions of them, of course. Which made Loki grin. Some time a few decades ago—several decades ago—he had decided that his little brand of "innocent" tricks he pulled every October Thirty-First should be movie-inspired. And since the American culture seemed to rely heavily on television and movies for their source of entertainment as the years went by, this was just too easy to do.

Inspiration was important in a job that required the creativity that being a trickster did. And this year, he was feeling like going classical.

Oh yes, those he preyed on were young, innocent children, so he made sure that none of them got hurt. The only thing they'd suffer might be the occasional nightmare or tantrum due to loss of candy—the treat from the kids, to Loki for his trick. Yes, yes, he was technically taking candy from babies, blah, blah, blah. But he was masquerading as a trickster god… No. The trickster god. And one had to keep up appearances.

So, as he sat, scanning the coming and going children to see which ones seemed to have the greatest haul, his eyes finally rested upon one particular pair. Siblings, based on the little, annoyed but happy looks they kept shooting one another. The shorter one—the one Loki was going to assume was the younger brother—was dressed in a ghost's sheet, while his slightly older sister—one, two years, tops—was dressed in a purple and green witch's costume.

"Come on, Bradley," the sister said, pointing to the house atop the hill. "Remember this place from last year? They gave out full-sized candy bars!"

Bradley nodded, visible only due to the bob in the top of the sheet. "Yeah, I remember Mom telling us about how that used to happen all the time when she was a kid."

"Let's hurry up. We're running behind," the sister said, tugging Bradley along as fast as possible.

Loki arched a brow. This girl had a time-table for what was supposed to be a night of fun? Oh yes, this was his pair. Of course, it didn't hurt that the plastic, pumpkin-decorated bags were bulging. He needed to think up a classic movie, one that would likely shock and maybe even scare them a little that the kids would definitely know. And that would fit his mood: classic. But, on the off-chance that the witch-girl was right, and the house atop the hill did give out full-sized candy bars… he would take this little wait to think up one.

He watched as the costumed brother and sister topped the hill, rang the doorbell, and did all that was required of them to receive candy. And, judging by the excited squeal that Bradley just barely managed to contain, the full-sized bars were a go. Loki grinned, and as the two laughed and turned to leave the walkway of the house, it struck him like a bolt of lightning. He knew exactly what film he was going to take inspiration from this year: Ernest Scared Stupid. A classic that was beloved by kids everywhere that grew, perhaps, a bit weary once they hit adulthood. Loki hopped down off the wall, stretching out the pretend kinks in his neck and popping his fingers.

"Showtime," he grinned.

Going on memory alone—which was fairly good, since he was an angel-dash-god—he transformed himself from his usual, handsome blond vessel into a tall, hairy monstrosity—the troll from the movie. From the top of his head, down to his know brown, knobby knees was equally brown shaggy hair. His lips, nose, and eyes were all way oversized and dripping with snot and saliva. He cleared his throat, ducking down behind the low wall until he could hear Bradley prattling on to his sister about the great candy.

"I can't believe it, Clarissa. I asked for a Three Musketeers, and he dug one out for me! That was so friggin' awesome!"

The two rounded the corner, and Loki took that moment to pounce. He growled and shook his comically large features in front of the kids. Both of them screamed, their grips tightening for only a split second before they loosened on their bags. Troll-Loki leaned forward, snarling at them as they stumbled backwards and fell on their hind ends, and grabbed the bags. Then, lifting one large hand, he snapped his chubby fingers and was gone.


Yes, Halloween was good to Loki/Gabriel. Every year, he took bags of candy from the little kids whom he felt deserved it most—and, to be honest, had the most candy gathered—just like he had from Bradley and his overbearing older sister. He always made sure to hit three to five kids before the night was over, and since he had gotten two in the first go around, he thought he'd aim for another five-bag run this year.

Not having bothered to change from his troll self, and sitting beneath the long shadow of one of the houses on this road's willow tree, he poured a fistful of candy from Clarissa's bag into his mouth, spitting out wrappers as they became a problem—and he might have swallowed one or two. The night was good indeed, and another couple of handfuls, and he'd be ready to go for Round Two. Sighing contentedly, he leaned back against the trunk of the tree, basking in his triumph and the sheer wonder of the night. All was peaceful.

That was, until, a bunch of cold liquid suddenly squirted into his face. Spluttering on the white stuff, his eyes flew open. Standing just outside the boundary of the willow's curtain of leaves, both armed with heavy-duty water guns, were Bradley and Clarissa—still in full costume.

"Give us back our candy, troll!" Clarissa shouted, pumping up her gun to show that she meant business.

"Yeah, or we'll love you to death!" Bradley cried after, taking a threatening step forward.

Loki's troll brows narrowed. What? His tongue lapped out, tasting of the liquid that dripped from him. And he had to stifle a laugh. Milk. Their water guns were filled with milk. And being loved to death? Now he did release a chuckle.

"That's right," Clarissa said, holding up her chin proudly. "We've seen that movie a hundred times. We're prepared! Now give us back our candy!"

Loki pushed himself to his feet, and the two kids backed up a couple of steps. Lifting up both bags of Halloween candy, he tossed them at their feet.

"You caught me," he said, his troll voice coming out more like Sweetums from the Muppets than the troll from the movie.

If the kids noticed, they didn't say anything. He laughed, continuing on.

"There's your candy. Only a handful missing. I'll go on peacefully."

Clarissa and Bradley pumped their guns in unison.

"No more candy stealing," Clarissa warned. "Or else."

"Yeah, and no turning kids into wooden dolls either," Bradley added.

Of all the kids, he had to get the ones that were apparently fans. He chuckled, and it suddenly occurred to him that that might sound pretty scary. He held up his hands in the universal sign of defeat, taking his right hand and making a cross over his heart.

"Scout's honor," he said.

"Good. Bradley, pick up the bags," Clarissa said.

She kept her brother covered as he did as instructed. The two of them then backed away several steps before finally turning and running down the street. Once they were safely out of sight, Loki allowed himself to retain his vessel's form.

"Smart kids. Especially that girl," he huffed, impressed.

He tore his eyes from the street, looking across the way just in time to see a bunch of older teenagers lobbing eggs at a house that had clearly done very little wrong—after all, it was decorated to the nines for the holiday. He cocked his head sideways, a grin forming.

Maybe, just this once, he would break tradition. No more candy stealing tonight, as promised. Instead, he'd target another group known to emerge on this night: the bullies. Transforming back into the troll from Ernest Scared Stupid, he smiled wide.

"Shoooowwwtiiimmmee!" he sing-songed as he charged across the rather unpopulated street toward the teenagers.

Maybe Halloween had more to offer than candy after all.