It was late! I was tired! I was abducted by aliens who brainwashed me! I was taken hostage by dwarves who demanded this story be written and put out there for the public! I had to! They were going to take Mister Snuggles!

...There really is no excuse for this story is there? Maybe I'll just file it under 'temporary lapse of judgment crack-fic' and never speak of it again.
This is the result of 3am, too much chocolate, hysterical laughter, and trying to make my little sister laugh by narrating the story in a weird semi-serious voice while simultaneously typing it out. Try it. You will understand how this happened.

YES. This is meant to be ridiculous, random, defying random laws of the known universe. Take it as a joke.
Hopefully you'll find a few laughs in here. Maybe. Just don't be hatin'. ;) I am prepared for the responses; which I'm sure will mostly be "WTF".

Clown-Sam

Chapter One

-The Pantomime of a Prodigy-

...

Sam and Dean rolled into town. You'd think one of them would have seen it. What is it, you ask? Well, IT is Dean's life flashing before his beautiful eyes. Then he blinked.

Suddenly a clown grabbed Sam and stuffed him in a trashcan. He wriggled around and tried to scream. But the clown shoved a hot dog wrapper in his mouth.

Why was this clown so mean to Sam? Because Sam had the one thing that poor clown ever wanted. A life with Dean. In Dean's car. In the backseat. After all, what more could a clown ever wish for? Dean's undying love? Or maybe the comfort of knowing that there is an illegal arsenal in the trunk, capable of killing everyone in New Mexico.

Grave robbers. That's what they were most commonly known as. Grave robbers. It only took one look to see why. They were knee deep in a freshly dug grave. A rotting corpse lay beneath them. Why was Sam laying on the corpse?

Simple. Sam was really the clown.

Dean had never noticed the slight changes in Sam's recent behavior. After all, his brother was insane. Dean had long ago gotten used to the fits of mental strain that often drove Sam to try and slit his wrists. He had grown tired of this constant battle to keep Sam alive. As if facing down the demons who were after his blood wasn't enough, he now had to make sure that Sam stayed out of reach of sharp objects and kept his wrists wrapped in bubble wrap.

It was relieving for Dean when Sam suddenly stopped trying to tear the protective material from his arms. Now all he did was sleep and steal balloons. Dean actually liked this new development. Except for the balloons in the back seat of his Impala.

Dean hit the back of Clown-Sam's head with his shovel. "Get your fat ass off the corpse, moron. I'm trying to do my job here." Clown-Sam grunted and slowly raised himself from the grave.

They stared at each other. Bubble wrap popped.

Dean ran a dirt streaked hand through his hair. "Man, what has gotten into you lately?" He asked Clown-Sam, not realizing that it wasn't his brother.

The clown looked at him defiantly and beeped his red nose.

Dean shook his head and closed his eyes in frustration. Communication had come to an end. Completely.

Without any further hesitation, Dean kneeled down and slid a bottle rocket into the corpse's mouth. "Man, I love my job." He said, grinning widely as Clown-Sam lit the fuse. They stood back and watched in awe as the rocket went off, sending sparks everywhere. The corpse slowly burned below the amazing display.

It sizzled, and cracked, and a stale fume filled the air. Clown-Sam passed out and fell to the ground, causing his bubble wrap to pop and become entirely useless.

Dean rolled his eyes at Clown-Sam's weakness and lifted him up by the arms. He dragged him back to the car and, after changing the bubble wrap, threw him into the passenger side door. Clown-Sam hit the door and crumpled on the wet grass.

Dean strode over to the driver's side door and opened it, getting in. Clown-Sam woke up just for the sake of the story and took his seat in the car.

Soon, they were speeding down a dark highway. At least they hoped it was a highway; they couldn't really see it.

Silence filled the car like a heavy perfume. Or the stink of a dead man.

Dean rolled down his window, hoping to cool off his temper. A balloon somehow got free from the back seat and squeaked out through the opening. It floated away into the night, much to the dismay of Clown-Sam. He threw a vicious glare at Dean and returned to playing tic-tac-toe on the foggy window.

Dean glanced at him an hour later and saw that he was keeping score. And losing terribly. Dean reached over and took Clown-Sam's next move, winning him the game.

Clown-Sam stared at the window in wonder and blushed. He squeaked his nose as a gesture of good will.

Dean smiled and returned to chasing down pedestrians. The tires squealed as he made the long overdo transition from sidewalk to pavement. Chalk one more up to hit and run.

Clown-Sam wanted a french-fry. So he made Dean pull over onto the side of the road. Then he jumped out and chased down a pelican. He wrestled it to the ground and pried the fry from its beak. Then he ate it.

He turned around to get back in the vehicle, but found himself facing only emptiness. The Impala was gone! He searched frantically for any sign of Dean. But there was none. Dean had vanished! Had he somehow figured out that Clown-Sam was an imposter?

No... it was impossible. He had no clue. Playing Sam was easy. All you had to do was look sad and wear bubble wrap.

The clown wandered from neighborhood to neighborhood.

Kids laughed at him. Pelican's dropped things on him. And people threw furniture on top of his feet. No one understood. No one tried to help him. They were all evil.

The clown finally snapped.

He felt that he had no choice but to lure them all in with promise of a party... and then... release the Koi.

-.-

2 Months Later

_._

It had been two months.

Dean had woken up in a hotel room. With no clothes, no money, and no car.

At first, his mind went reeling, looking for some reason, some explanation as to why he was here. Where was here? He was in the Red Ribbon Motel on highway 12 in Montgomery, Georgia. But try as he might, he just couldn't figure out what had happened. His memory was gone.

All he could remember was his life before. A life of murder, a life of greed, a life with a strange man with a clown nose. What did it all mean? What was going on?

He couldn't have been possessed. He had a tattoo to prevent that very thing.

Of course, maybe it didn't work after all. Maybe it didn't work on whatever super powerful son of a bitch that had claimed control of his body and used it for goodness knows what kind of evil sin. Not that he cared much. He just liked having tattoos. He had one on his chest. And one on his...

What was that noise?

Dean started and stood up from the red silk sheets of his motel room. He peered out the window, and saw nothing. Well, nothing strange. He wrapped the blankets tighter around his waist, feeling very insecure. Oh, he had a good body... just no means of self defense. He was vulnerable.

Suddenly a face appeared in the window. He examined it. The face held no recognition for him.

Then, he remembered. The clown face! The face of his brother, the clown.

A smile lit up his features and he turned to open the door. But he tripped over his sheets and fell onto the floor.

The door opened and a pair of boots came into view. The owner of those boots squatted down and looked at Dean with amusement. Dean grinned. But, wait... Where was the big red nose?

This wasn't the face that made Dean sick every morning. This face was different. Kinder, sadder, more familiar. The sad familiar face contorted in rage. He pulled Dean up from the tangle of cloth. "Where the hell have you been?!" The face demanded.

Dean blinked once in surprise. This wasn't what he had expected. The face went on, "I have been looking for you for five months!"

"Don't be a drama queen," He said, pointing to a calendar, not knowing whether it was right or not, "I've only been gone for two months!"

The face stared. "W-What?! You've been gone since our job in Toronto. How could you just leave me like that? I was stranded. Alone. Fit to be picked off by the first pack of demons that came across me."

Dean blanched. "You mean... you haven't been with me on these last few missions?" The face nodded, "Finally, you get it!" "But.. but...-" Dean took a step back. If the real Sam hadn't been there... Then who was the moron who filled his car with balloons? Who had he wrapped bubble wrap around? Who had he played tic-tac-toe with?

Something was not right.

...Something was REALLY not right. Dean looked down and saw that he was no longer wrapped safely in his sheets. He looked at the pile on the floor, then at Sam, then at himself. Then he ran to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. "Next time tell me I'm naked, you sicko!" He hollered back to Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes. Like it mattered anyway.

Sam perched on the edge of the bed. He grew bored and absently slid his hand under the mattress. It closed around something hard. And cold. He pulled out a machine gun. "What the hell?"

Dean emerged from the bathroom, clothed in the only thing he could find. A shower curtain patterned with Spongebob. Sam shrank back from Spongebob's leering face, positioned directly over Dean's junk. Spongebob's nose was... misleading.

"Listen, we should move out. And find me some better clothes."

Sam was astonished. "Shouldn't we sit down and try to figure out what is going on?" He asked incredulously. Dean grimaced and replied, "Yes, but first let's get me some clothes. This is getting awkward."

Sam glanced at Spongebob and silently agreed.

-.-

Back in Clown-Sam's world

_._

Clown-Sam smiled and looked down at the people around him. Their bodies had been picked clean by the crows. They were nothing more than skeletons now.

Behind Clown-Sam, a bush rustled. He spun around and threw a ninja star. It landed in the bush with a shplsh and then all was quiet.

Clown-Sam walked over to investigate. He parted the green leaves of the bushes and searched for his star. It gleamed from a pile of dirt.

Overhead, a balloon floated by. Then a plane. Then a bird. Then Peter Pan.

Meanwhile, a car was coming up the block. It was weaving in and out of the road. It's ill maneuvered pattern brought back painful memories. Clown-Sam jerked upright and glared.

He threw his recovered ninja star at the car's front tire. The tire popped and the car flipped over. And over. Until it fell into a swimming pool and sank.

Clown-Sam had a mini heart attack.

He never liked that pool. He didn't know how to swim. He folded his arms and sat Indian style on the grass.

It had been so long since Dean had left him. Why would Dean even do such a thing? Maybe he had been possessed.

Yes, of course he had. Possessed with the same desire for all the vices that distracted him from the one good thing in his life. Sam. Or, in this case, Clown-Sam.

But now... Now he would take revenge.

...

Back with Sam and Dean

...

Sam layed back, with his feet perched up on the car door. His hands were folded behind his head and he was staring up into the clear blue sky.

Dean came skipping around the front of his car. He was dressed in the trademark shirt, pants, jacket, odd bit of bling here and there. He plopped down next to Sam and smiled.

Hey, why shouldn't he smile? Everything was right in his world now. He was fully clothed, had located his car- on the street corner-, and had the RIGHT Sam tagging along with him.

But he didn't know that danger was coming. He was unaware of the wicked clown-shaped darkness looming in the distance. All he saw were birdies in the sky. Children playing in the streets. Squirrels mating in the trees. Ah, beautiful beautiful life.

Sam lowered his feet to the ground and sat up. He scratched at the bubble wrap that Dean had placed on his wrists after they had found the Impala. The previous wrapping had fallen off long ago.

Sam wondered briefly why he hadn't felt any temptation to slit his wrists, with Dean gone and nothing to stop him. It was strange, but at the time all he wanted to do was find his brother. All he felt was an overwhelming sense of betrayal. And he needed to know why he had been abandoned.

Now, he knew that an evil clown imposter had taken his place. How ironic. Sam hated clowns. From their stupid fashion sense, to their stupid Sam-like expressions, to their stupid stupid noses, and their need to be someone else.

Now, he felt like the bond between him and Dean had grown stronger. They had both been fooled, and were now reunited against the same evil. They would hunt this monster down and kill it. For, surely, this was a monster. Who else would do such thing?

Dean tugged at his jacket. "Well," He said, "I sure did like having a brother who kept his trap shut, but I guess we have no other choice." Sam shot Dean a glare and stood, brushing off the grass that stuck to his cute little behind.

"We have to go. Where did you last see him?" Dean's answer was a shrug. Sam smacked his fist against the hood of the Impala in frustration.

Dean stood to his feet at once and back handed Sam. "Don't you ever touch my car again or so help me I will rip off your bubble wrap myself!" He roared, angrily.

Sam blinked back his hurt tears and growled, "I thought we had something in common now, what with being conned by a clown and all. But you haven't changed a bit! You're just as mean now as you were before!"

Dean was slightly taken off-guard by this outburst. Usually Sam was laid back and introverted. The only person he ever shouted at was their father; there was some serious friction there, most of which came from John Winchester having once tried to set his youngest son up with the daughter of a foreign king in order to get more money for the ever useful and unfailingly small store of ammunition. Sam had never liked being thought of by his father as nothing more than a handy resource.

Dean swallowed and hesitantly put his hand on Sam's shoulder. The taller Winchester stiffened. Then he burst into tears, sinking down on the ground.

"Aw, Sammy, I'm sorry." Dean said softly, kneeling down beside his brother, feeling both pity for him and disgusted that he was acting so weak.

Sam sniffed several times and wiped his face against his bubble wrap. It did nothing to erase the tears.

Dean waited until he was sure that his brother had finished crying before he straightened up and offered him his hand. Sam took it and stood. Dean smiled at him and wiped a tear from Sam's cheek. "Let's go catch this son of a bitch."

...

"Dean!"

"What?"

"Look at me when I'm talking to you."

"I'd try but your hideous face would probably just burn my eyes out."

They were back in the Impala and well on their way to the little town where Dean last remembered seeing Clown-Sam.

It had been just like old times. A too long car ride in a too hot car with a too loud passenger trying to tell him the 'correct' way to drive. Dean ignored him and pushed down on the gas pedal, quickly gaining on the three legged poodle and elderly woman fleeing down the sidewalk.

"DEAN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" ba-bump "DID YOU JUST RUN THEM OVER?! OMIGOSH SHE'S FLOPPING AROUND BACK THERE!"

A disturbing thumping noise came from beneath the car as they drove away. "Hang on," Dean said, revving the engine, "I think the poodle's caught in the tire." He drove through a patch of decorative shrubbery, successfully ridding them of whatever was making the thumping sound.

Sam's mouth hung open as he faced Dean. His brother hadn't changed; and yet, he had. Maybe it was all that time he had spent with the clownish imposter, being goaded on instead of reminded that it wasn't nice to run people over.

"Speaking of rubber chickens..." Dean said suddenly.

"No one was talking about rubber chickens." Sam interjected, wondering if maybe his brother was crazy after all that time spent bonding with a creeper.

What was he thinking- of course he was!

"We were in the conversation in my head."

"Well, please, continue the conversation in your head."

Dean glared at Sam and purposefully swerved to the left, making his brother hit his head on the passenger side window. "You know, Clown-Sam was a lot better at holding an intelligent conversation."

Sam seethed, rubbing the bump on his head and muttered, "Fine. Whatever. Just go marry him if you're so in love."

Dean ignored his brother and continued what he was saying, "So about the... Wait. What was I talking about?" "Rubber chickens." Sam supplied begrudgingly. "Right! Well, anyway, I was wondering... Do you think they're like fuzzy dice and multiply when you put two of them together? I had some fuzzy dice in here once and let me tell you, it was quite a party."

Sam blinked. Then he said, "I don't know. Why don't you go find out for yourself?"

"Nope," Dean shook his head sadly, "Rubber chickens are not my type. I'll sleep with many things, but chickens are not one of them."

"Oh, yeah. Stuffed gorillas but not chickens?" Sam asked, crossing his arms.

"Hey! I thought I said never to bring that up! Besides, I wasn't doing anything! My hand slipped!"

Sam stared at his brother's flushed face and thought about how many times they had been like this before. Well, not like this, hunting down a maniac clown while talking about Dean's sexual preferences for toy animals... But way back in the past, when they hunted down maniac clowns and talked about Dean's sexual preferences for toy animals.

Wait... This was exactly like that.

So why did something feel different? Sam couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew that something was off. And what he didn't know was that it was laying in the back-seat, riding along with them.

.

So I hoped you enjoyed the first chapter XD Even if it left you feeling a little o_O But, meh... THAT WAS THE POINT! ^^ I will continue to work on this when all the words in my head become a jumbled mess and this insanity is the only think I can come up with X3 But, yeah. Thanks for reading! (If you stayed with it this long, YOU, my dear, are a saint. Or really crazy. But thanks!) And make sure you leave a review, they keep my fangirl heart pumping with excitment!