Supernatural Series Rewrite- Season 4

It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester- Part 2

The next day, Dean did his part by staking out the Wallace house while you and Sam were stuck in the motel room, doing all kinds of research. There had to have been someone at the party that might know the Wallace's.

"Who should we look up?" Sam asked.

"I think we're setting the bar too high with this one. If Luke wasn't having an affair, then that means it's not an older woman. I don't know the motive yet, but what if we targeted someone much younger? I don't know, Tracy?"

"Why Tracy? She watched her friend die."

"I have a gut feeling on her," you shrugged.

"Good enough for me," Sam said before typing on his laptop. In the meantime, you took out your phone and dialed Dean, waiting for him to pick up.

"Hey."

"How's it going?"

"Awesome, yeah, I talked with Mrs. Razor Blade again. I've been sitting out in front of her house for hours and I've got a big steamy pile of nothing."

"Look, someone planted those hex bags, someone with access to both houses. There's gotta be some connection. I was telling Sam, maybe it's not an older woman. Maybe it's someone much younger."

"Yeah, well I hope we find 'em soon cause I'm starting to cramp like a—son of a bitch."

"Quit whining," you lightly rolled your eyes.

"No, Y/N, I mean, son of a bitch. That backstabbing little liar."

"Who? What is going on?"

"Tracy is their babysitter."

"Come back. We may be onto something here," you spoke before hanging up on him. Turning to Sam, you made sure he was paying attention before you spoke again. "Guess who babysits for the Wallace's?"

"Apple-bobbing cheerleader?"

"Bingo. Told you I had a gut feeling on her," you said. It wasn't long until Dean came back, and when he did, he wasn't happy.

"I can't believe her. She told me she never even heard of Luke Wallace."

"Huh, interesting look for a centuries-old witch," Sam commented as he looked at his laptop. As soon as Tracy came up, he decided to do some research on her.

"Yeah, well, if you were a six-hundred-year-old hag and you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn't you go for a hot cheerleader?"

"Well, Tracy's not as wholesome as she looks. Did some digging—apparently, she got into a violent altercation with one of her teachers, got suspended from school," Sam explained, showing you and Dean his laptop screen.

One screen was a picture of Tracy with notes next to her face. Her name, where she lived, her parent's names, her student email along with one of her parents', what grade she was in, who she had for homeroom, her counselor's name, and who her emergency contact was.

"What are we waiting for?" you asked as you got up and put on your jacket. "We're wasting time in here. Let's go to that high school and talk to that teacher."

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"I never missed high school," you said as you walked into an art classroom. It was meant for ceramics due to the large number of kilns everywhere. Dean looked around before settling his gaze on demonic looking masks that students have made. The longer he stared at it, the more intense his features got.

"Dean, you okay?" you asked which brought him out of whatever spell he was on.

"Yeah," he whispered.