Sam had incessantly kept his perpetual distaste for Halloween, an annoyingly strong aversion to the holiday and the days surrounding it. From six months old to 18, his age of escape, his life was a horror movie. Blood, fire, bones, monsters. Deaths on a screen rivaled nothing like watching innocents die knowing you were the ones supposed to protect them.

Perhaps a suffocating heft of guilt or maybe cause Halloween was a social holiday. Knocking on strangers doors, dressing up in masks, momentarily delving into the pretend world that was Sam’s misery. Kids don’t know they’re dressing up as the things he hunts and the least he can do is preserve that childlike innocence and naivety in others — the absence which he kept.

Friends, parties, strangers — none he kept. Dean was all he had as a kid — no big group to go trick-or-treating with. Maybe the hatred started then. Or maybe it was vacancy.

He sat on the edge of your dorm room bed, an imperceptible frown weighing down his lips as he looked around at the scattered array of halloween decorations and horror movie posters. Bit ironic a halloween hater dates a horror movie and halloween enthusiast.

His eyes drifted to you, a fond look in his irises despite the hatred for the season. His eyes delicately watched as you got ready, an excited grin on your lips as you dressed for a halloween party all the while you pleaded with him to join you.

"Go have your fun, angel. I’m not holding you back," Sam encouraged softly, a gentle lilt to his voice as he watched you cast a glance over your shoulder at him. "Enjoy your night. I would only ruin your fun."