E/O Wild Halloween Challenge: Sprained and/or Scary
Birthday wishes: Madd Aless requested pre-series Sam, some saving the day, and would like to know why Sam hates holidays especially Halloween/Samhain.
Special dispensation to use 200 words. Halloween related. Something unexpected. Limping and sickness. And an exhortation to go crazy. Tall order?
A/N – So I used both words, a flashback to TeenChesters, um, got Halloween in there, something unexpected, and definitely had limping. Also went crazy and abused the word limit.
A/N 2 - thank you thank you thank you E and O for the past participle this week
Word Count: 300
No spoilery.

"Do…do you remember Halloween…that year?"

Panting, Sam huffed, "Two steps up. Which year?" Dean's head rolled on his shoulder. "Dean? You with me? C'mon, two steps."

Dean stumbled, almost all of his weight hanging off Sam's shoulder. "You were so scared. All big eyes'n shit."

"How old was I?" He wrestled his semi-conscious brother down a hallway. "Six? Seven? Down some steps."

"You were fourteen." Dean hissed each time his foot touched a tread. "Where did all these…fuckin' steps come from?"

They came to a locked door. Sam leaned Dean against a wall. "Stay there." It didn't work, Dean sliding down until he sat heavily on the floor. "Sitting down on the job?"

"Give me a break. Job's done." He opened his eyes. "Where are we?"

"Getting out of here." Sam'd gotten turned around but he was sure he was at the back door they'd seen scouting hours before. He bent to pick the lock, looking sideways at Dean. "Halloween when I was fourteen? Wasn't that the night I was stuck waiting in the car while you and Dad hunted the berserker—and the berserker found the car before you found it?"

"Yeah, good times." Dean closed his eyes but one side of his mouth quirked up. "You freaked out."

Sam cranked around to glare at him. "Because that wasn't scary at all. Giant furry monster, eight inch claws, scratching and drooling on the windows…"

"And you holding up your Sociology book, like…a…berserker would be scared of primitive cultures or something." Dean snorted. "Dad and I laughed so hard."

"It was a real riot." The lock clicked open, and Sam dragged Dean to his feet. "Come on. Five steps down."

"I sprained my knee not my eyes, Book-Boy."

"Then open them."

"Later."

Sam sighed. "Lean on me. Straight ten feet…"

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