Author: Kat Lee
Character/Pairing: Dean, Crowley, Rowena, Sam, Castiel, implied Dean/Crowley
Challenge/Prompt: spn_bigpretzel Hallowe'en Comment Fic Challenge: Hubble Bubble Toil and Trouble; Poke It, See What It Does..., and Pumpkin
Warning(s): Cannon Character Death
Word Count: 1,330
Date Written: 9 October 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Kripke, not the author, and are used without permission.
“Poke it,” Dean urged. “See what it does.”
“Dude, I am not poking that!” Sam exclaimed, giving the table a wide berth as he walked around to the refrigerator. “You poke it. You’re the one wanting to eat it. I’m perfectly fine with my salad.”
“Of course you are,” muttered his brother. “I swear, one of these days, Sammy, you’re going to turn into a rabbit!”
Sam wriggled his nose at him. “You’ve already been a dog,” he reminded him. “I think I’d rather be a rabbit.”
“Yoo do know what they say about rabbits,” Rowena spoke softly, eyeing the Winchester brothers. Sam blushed and immediately turned his attention to the refrigerator and taking out his salad.
“How about you, Rowena?” Dean asked. “Can’t you do some kind of spell and see where it came from?”
“Och, listen at yoo, yoo big, ol’ strapping hunter afraid o’ a wee, ol’ pie!”
“I don’t know where it came from.”
“We are in the bunker.”
“You think the bunker’s feeding us now?” he asked his brother.
“No. I’m just saying,” Sam explained while raking some salad out into a smaller bowl, “how many people could have gotten in here to have left it?”
“You’ve got a point,” Dean said and suddenly grinned. He retrieved a spoon from a nearby drawer and cut off a bite of the pie that was labeled, “Happy Halloween, Dean”.
“Still,” Rowena said even before some kind of blood red substance began oozing out of the pie in question, “yoo knae what they say ‘bout razor blades in apples this time o’ th’ year.”
“But they couldn’t have gotten into the bunker,” argued Dean. He’d already closed his mouth around the bite when the ooze began. His eyes widened as he watched the blood red substance spilling out of the pie. The crust tasted good and warm on his tongue, however, and he swallowed it before he could reign in his impulses.
Rowena made a face. “Well, it looks like yoo Winchesters aren’t so perfect after all . . . Hubble, boil, toil, an’ trouble,” she teased. “Who eats human blood on Halloween? Yoo spend th’ rest o’ th’ year protectin’ ‘em, an’ yet here yoo are, eatin’ ‘em!”
“Hey, that bite didn’t have any blood in it!” Dean hotly defended himself. He put the spoon down, braced his hands on the table, and eyed the pie. “That can’t be real human blood.”
“Looks like blood tae me,” Rowena remarked in an almost sing-song voice. She smiled; seeing Dean Winchester so troubled over a little pie was secretly a delight for her. “Maybe yoo boys should invite me o’er more often.”
“You’re here for one reason, Rowena -- “
“Och, I knae, Sam, I knae. But can’t a lass have any fun wit’ yoo two wit’out havin’ tae be reminded o’ th’ obvious? It’s nae like I have nae came through fer yoo both before.”
“Desperate times -- “ Sam started and then made a face as Dean swiped a bit of the oozing blood and tasted it off of his finger. “YUCK, DUDE!”
“Actually, it’s not bad.” Dean swirled the taste around in his mouth, looking thoughtful before swallowing it. “And it’s familiar.” He swiped his finger through the ooze again and tasted it once more. “Yup. Pumpkin. Definitely pumpkin.”
“But then . . . “ Sam paused, frowning deeply in confusion. “Who would have colored the pumpkin the color of blood?”
“I don’t know,” Dean mused honestly but swiped another taste.
“Dude, use the spoon or something!”
“You said you didn’t want any,” Dean reminded his brother.
It was just then that Castiel appeared in the midst. “Cas,” Dean asked immediately, turning to him, “did you -- “
The Angel looked troubled as he eyed the pie. “No,” he said quickly, “but . . . “ He glanced around them. “Dean, there’s something you should know. Someone else has been here. I think . . . I think he may still be here.”
Clapping suddenly sounded. It seemed to resonate around the room before Crowley appeared beside Dean and the table. “Well done, Angel! You beat the Moose and Squirrel to figuring it out. And Mom -- “ He eyed his mother with disgust and wariness. “You scolded me for playing with the boys, but here you are doing the very same thing!”
“Things . . . Things have changed, Fergus. Besides, what . . . How . . . “ The ancient Witch’s eyes widened with sudden understanding. “Yoo’re a ghost, aren’t yoo?”
“That’s right, Mom! I’m a bloody ghost!” Crowley threw up his arms. “And here you are frolicking with the Winchesters!”
“Fergus -- “ Rowena started.
“You did this?” Dean asked, cutting in and taking another lick of the bloody pumpkin guts from his finger.
Crowley smirked. “I told you I was powerful, and not just because I was the King of Hell.”
“Somebody has a crush!” Rowena suddenly exclaimed.
“Oh, shut up!” Crowley barked.
“Dean does have that way with people,” Castiel mused aloud. Glancing at Crowley, he added, “And some Demons.”
“Somebody does have a crush!” Rowena insisted. “I knew it! I knew that’s why yoo could ne’er let go o’ th’ Winchesters while yoo were alive! An’ now yoo come back on th’ one night yoo can freely walk th’ Earth an’ yoo make him a bloody pie!”
“Well, I kind of had help,” Crowley admitted. “I couldn’t use my own hands after all.” He held up his hands, which were transparent in the flourescent light of the kitchen, and turned them back and forth.
“Crowley -- “ Dean growled.
“Shut up and eat your pie! Ketch is fine. He just has to sleep it off, is all.”
Everybody fell silent as a saucer clattered loudly onto the table. “Eat your damn pie,” his brother told him, placing his spoon onto the saucer. Grabbing up his own bowl of salad and a beer, Sam walked purposefully through Crowley’s ghost and out of the room.
Castiel eyed Dean and Crowley for a long moment, then left the room in a loud flutter of invisible wings. Rowena kept staring at her son. Dean turned to eating pie, leaving the two alone. “We’ve so much tae catch up on,” she whispered, not wanting to be overheard by Dean Winchester even if the murdering bloke did apparently have a liking for her son.
“Hmph.” Crowley snorted. He glared at her but then looked over at where Dean was enjoying his pie and had to smile.
“Fergus, -- I -- I’m sorry fer everythin’ -- “
“Oh, don’t get whiny on me now, Mother!” Crowley snapped. “Just admit to me one thing.”
“Anythin’,” she said softly.
“Th’ Winchesters are worth gettin’ hooked on, aren’t they?”
She couldn’t seem to stop the small smile that curved up her red lips. “Aye,” she admitted, “they are quite likeable fer hunters -- an’ fer mortals.”
Crowley grinned. “That’s a start at least,” he said. He looked fondly over at Dean, who was chewing with his eyes closed in relishment. “Happy Halloween, Dean,” he said again and promptly vanished.
“Hey! Yoo can’t just leave me like that!” Rowena cried out, but her son was gone as soon and as unexpectedly as he’d appeared.
Dean rose, walked over to the cabinet, retrieved another saucer and spoon, walked back to the table, and sat the new saucer and spoon down in front of another chair. Resuming his own position, he cut two slices of pie with his spoon and scooped the smaller of the two onto the new saucer. “Pie?” he asked, looking up at Rowena whose eyes were brimming with unshed tears.
She sighed and flopped down into her chair. “I suppose so,” she muttered. If she couldn’t know her son, at least she could know his pie. She took a bite. “Mmm. Well, apparently, that’s one thin’ he could do right.” She’d never been good in the kitchen, but her son must have adopted his ability to cook food from her own skills with cooking up spells. She took another bite.
Dean ate his piece quietly. “Happy Halloween, Rowena,” he said and went for a third slice.
“Happy Halloween, Dean.”