October 31st.

The bunker was silent, save for the movie playing in the man-cave. Dean had finally gotten a TV that wasn’t haunted by the spirit of a child who loved Scooby Doo, thankfully. Sam was out, on a “it’s not a date” date with Eileen, leaving you and Dean to laze around and watch Halloween movies.

Two movies in, the 1996 classic Scream on the television, and you were growing antsy. You loved Halloween. Had decorated the bunker a bit to make it feel more spooky, pumpkin-scented candles lit and paper ghosts hung in every room. You and Dean were a little too old for costumes, but as Billy and Stu chased down poor Sidney, your mind began to wander.

It started as a suggestion. You’d jokingly bought the Ghostface mask after seeing videos upon videos of women buying them for their boyfriends. To add a little spooky spice to your life, one claimed. Best night of my life, another one praised.

That was thirty minutes ago when you’d given it to Dean and told him what you wanted. “I want you to hunt me down,” you had told him. It took a bit of convincing, mostly by saying the hunt would lead to you and him in bed, but he had agreed.

So now, here you were, running through the halls of the bunker. You’d run into Dean twice now, both times nearly getting caught. He wasn’t chasing you. No. He was stalking you. Moving slowly, giving you time to think you were safe before appearing again.

“Sweetheart,” his voice echoed through the halls, deep and low. You couldn’t tell how far — or how close — he was. “Thought you’d make this difficult for me.”