A/N: Do yall hate me? Ive been away due to the start of school...and its already kicking my ass. I don't know if I'll be able to continue writing this story. If I do, updates will be really spaced out. And for that, I'm sorry. But I hope you still continue to read and leave reviews. This is my happy place...and escape from the stresses of school and I would love to continue doing this if there are people out there still reading. So let me know!

Disclaimer: I only own my character, Allie.

Episode: Everybody Loves A Clown

After Dad was pronounced dead, Sam and Dean held a hunter's funeral for him, which means they wrapped his body and burned it over a large fire. I couldn't bear to go with them. Maybe I was in denial or maybe it was because I didn't want to show weakness to Sam and Dean. I don't know why I didn't go. Maybe it has to do something with the sense of guilt I'm feeling.

For some reason, I can't shake off the feeling that I could have done something to help Dad. It makes no sense to me that he suddenly dropped like a fly when he looked so healthy only moments before. The doctors even told us he was going to make a full recovery. I

To put it all together, I don't find it a coincidence that Dean woke up a couple minutes before Dad died.

I should have known Dad was going to do something stupid to help Dean. He jumped to conclusions, not waiting a couple of more days to see if Dean was going to pull through. He pulled the trigger too quickly and now we all have to pay the price for it.

Bobby offered to let us stay for as long as we needed after we told him the news. Since we arrived to Sioux Falls, the three of have been doing our own thing. Dean spends all his time outside working on his car and ignoring Sam and I. Maybe he feels the same kind of guilt too? If he did, I wouldn't know. He's barely said a word to me in almost two weeks. Sam tries his best to make small chit chat with Dean and I when he isn't in Bobby's study, deep diving into Bobby's book collection. But usually Dean and I are in no mood to talk and blow him off. Sometimes I feel bad. Talking about it might be Sam's way of coping, but I don't have the mindset to discuss Dad.

I spend my time vigorously exercising. When I run through the windy Sioux Falls trails, all my worries tend to disappear for a short time. Its just me, the trees, and Dean's classic rock music blasting in my ears. I run until my legs feel like Jello. Then I do push ups, sit ups, squats, you name it by a small creek a couple miles away from Bobby's junkyard. I stay out for as long as I can until my stomach gargles at me and I head home. But when I get home, I'm reminded about the shit my family is going through and I lose my appetite. Sometimes I'll go to the bars and fill my empty stomach with booze. The hard stuff, not beer. Hoping it will distract me from my own issues again. Usually I'll just throw up in the grimy bathrooms and stumble home when everyone else is asleep. Then I repeat everything the next morning.

As the sun begins to set I run back home. With every step, I think I'm going to fall because of how weak my body is. By the time I reach Bobby's junkyard the sweat evaporates from my skin and I'm just red in the face. As I enter Bobby's property, I can hear my brothers arguing by Dean's beloved car. Usually I wouldn't have stopped to listen, but I feel empty inside after not talking to them in days, so I walk closer to them.

"Don't patronize me, Dean, Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened," Sam says.

"What do you want to say?" Dean sighs and throws down the dirty rag he's been using onto the hood of his car, which is looking better and better everyday.

"Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car."

"Revenge, huh?" Dean scoffs.

"Yeah."

"Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But you know, if we do finally find it - oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it." Sam doesn't retaliate, so Dean continues, "We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car." Dean narrows his eyes past Sam's broad shoulders and spots me approaching them. "You're back early."

Sam turns around to see who Dean's talking to and looks pleasantly surprised to see that it's me.

"I got hungry," I say.

"Are you actually going to eat this time?" Sam asks, but I don't have to speak to give him an answer. My stomach is already churning with nausea just standing here. Maybe I'll manage a banana or something. "Allie, I'm worried about you."

"We're all handling this in different ways."

"Sam's right," Dean says. "You're hurting yourself. Your skin and bones, and I bet you're going to be in need of a liver transplant any day now."

"If anyone is drowning themselves in alcohol it's you!" I argue. "You drink yourself to sleep every night, I go to the bar every once in a while."

"Yeah and now the bartender has Bobby on speed dial considering you need to be picked up every time you're one shot deep because you're body can't handle the alcohol now that you're a walking skeleton!"

"Okay, that's enough." Sam says, looking back and forth between Dean and I.

"Screw you, Dean. Its' not like you care! All you seem to care about is your stupid car getting fixed, and not your family!"

"I said that's enough!" Sam barks and sends a glare my way.

Dean stares at me with rage. His hands are balled up into fists and his teeth are clenched so tight that his jawline looks extra sharp.

Of course I didn't mean what I said. It's not like I'm doing anything to help my family out either. In fact, Dean and I are handling Dad's death in similar ways. He's working on the impala overtime and then drinking himself to sleep. I over exercise and use food as my way of actually feeling in control of something.

Dean slowly turns away from me and crouches down by his car again. I roll my eyes and turn to walk back to the house but Sam stops me.

"Wait, Allie, stop for a sec. Its good you're here. Look, Dean. We do have something, all right?" Sam pulls out a flip phone from his jeans pocket and holds it up. "It's what I came by here to tell you. This is one of Dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this."

Sam hands the phone to Dean.

Dean plays the voicemail left on Dad's phone. It's from a woman, "John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me."

"That message is four months old," Sam says.

"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?" Dean asks.

"Yeah."

"Well, who's Ellen? Any mention of her in Dad's journal?"

"No. But I ran a trace on her phone number and I got an address."

Dean glances at the impala, "Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars."

I'm not ready to go on another field trip with Sam and Dean. I don't think I'm ready to do anything related to what happened to Dad. But as I look between my two brothers, I realize I have no choice in the matter and that I have to do this.

The car ride to find Ellen, the mysterious woman on Dad's phone, is silent except for the rattle coming from Bobby's beat-up old baby blue minivan.

"This is humiliating. I feel like a friggin' soccer mom," Dean complains as he pulls up to a bar called Roadhouse Saloon.

"It's the only car Bobby had running," Sam says. We hop out of the car and push our way through the open doors. Its early in the morning so the place is empty and the lights are turned off. No one seems to be here. "Hello? Anybody here?"

I walk towards the pool tables as Sam and Dean split off and search the rest of the bar. Passed out on the red velvet of the billiard table is a man with a mullet. He looks to be around Dean's age, and like Dean, he snores too.

"I'm guessing you aren't Ellen," I say to the passed out guy.

Sam goes to the backroom and Dean walks down a couple of steps to the storage room behind the bar. A couple of seconds later I hear movement coming from where Dean is and then a small struggle, and Dean groaning.

I immediately whip out my gun from the waistband of my jeans and point it towards the bar.

"Sam! Allie! Need some help in here," Dean calls out for us.

As soon as I start taking steps towards the storage room, Sam walks out from the back with his hands behind his head and a woman behind him holding a rifle to his back.

"Sorry, Dean, I can't right now. I'm a…little tied up." Sam says.

Dean comes out of the storage room in a similar position except the one pointing a rifle at Dean's back is a young girl about my age.

I go back and forth between pointing my gun at Sam and Dean. My hand twitches around the trigger, itching to fire. After what just happened to my dad, its really bad timing to start threatening my brothers.

"Sam? Dean?" The woman holding a gun at Sam's back says. "Winchester?"

"Yeah," They say at the same time.

I eye the woman behind Sam with a puzzled look. She's older, probably the other girl's mother.

"And that must make you Allie," She says, making eye contact with me.

I wink, but I don't loosen my grip on my gun by any means. Usually the ones that know our names without us telling them are the ones that want us dead. But I'm assuming this is Ellen, so I hesitate.

"Son of a bitch," She shakes her head.

"Mom, you know these guys?" The girl behind Dean asks.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's kids." Ellen lowers her gun, chuckling, "Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Jo."

Jo follows her mother's lead and lowers her weapon as well. Dean turns around and smiles at her. I can already predict his next move now.

"Hey," Jo says.

"You're not gonna hit me again, are you?" Dean asks her.

Ellen walks behind the bar and wraps some ice around a towel, handing it to Dean. "Here you go."

"Thanks." Dean takes the towel. "You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?"

"Well, the demon, of course." Ellen says, making my blood run cold. "I heard he was closing in on it."

"What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed? I mean, who, who are you? How do you know about all this?"

Ellen gets defensive, "Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once."

"Oh yeah? How come he never mentioned you before?"

"You'd have to ask him that," Ellen shrugs. She doesn't know.

"So why exactly do we need your help?'

"Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if..." Ellen trails off when my brothers and I lose eye contact with her and we focus on our shoes. I swallow my tears. How many people are going to have to tell Dad is dead? I never thought about it and it will be a constant reminder that he's not here with us. "He didn't send you." She says. "He's all right, isn't he?"

Sam clears his throat, "No. No, he isn't. It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess."

"I'm so sorry," Ellen says sincerely.

"It's okay. We're all right." Dean says which is a complete lie.

"Really?" Ellen asks. "I know how close you and your dad were."

"Really, lady, I'm fine," Dean snips slightly.

Suddenly the room gets awkward and I feel the need to lighten the situation again. "So look, if you can help, we could use all the help we can get."

"Well, we can't," Ellen says, "But Ash will."

"Who's Ash?" I ask.

Ellen looks behind her at the man by the pool tables. "Ash!"

The man passed out on the pool table snaps upright, looking disheveled and confused. "What? It closin' time?"

"That's Ash?" Sam asks apprehensively.

"Mm-hmm." Jo nods. "He's a genius."

A grin pulls at my lip as Ash tries to blink himself back into reality. He seems like a cool dude, a partier with tons of surprises – for example, the fact that the guy with a mullet is actually a genius.

A couple of minutes later, Sam and Ash sit together at the bar to get organized. Dean watches from behind and Jo pours us some water from behind the bar.

"You've gotta be kidding me, this guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie." Dean says.

Ash turns around and smirks at my brother, "I like you."

"Thanks," Dean grins.

"Just give him a chance," Jo says.

Dean sits next to Sam and takes the folder laying in front of them. "All right. This stuff's about a year's worth of our dad's work, so uh, let's see what you make of it."

Ash takes out the papers in the folder and looks over them. He shakes his head in disbelief as he reads over Dad's notes. "Come on. This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody can track a demon like this."

"Our Dad could," I say.

"There are non-parametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations, I mean…damn! They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms... You ever been struck by lightening? It ain't fun."

"Can you track it or not?" Sam asks, starting to get a little impatient.

"Yeah, with this, I think so." Ash says. "But it's gonna take time, uh, give me…fifty one hours."

Ash gets up to leave with the folder when Dean stops him, "Hey, man?"

"Yeah?" Ash asks.

"I, uh, I dig the haircut."

Ash smirks, "All business up front, party in the back."

As Ash leaves, Jo walks around Dean who shamelessly checks her out and follows her to wherever she goes. I take Ash's seat next to Sam and guzzle down my water.

"Hey, Ellen, what is that?" Sam asks, pointing at something behind the bar.

Ellen glances behind her shoulder, "It's a police scanner. We keep tabs on things, we…"

"No, no, no, no, the, um, the folder," Sam says.

Ellen turns around and picks it up, "Uh, I was gonna give this to a friend of mine. But take a look, if you want." She hands it to Sam.

Sam opens up the folder and we see it's a couple of newspaper articles about a couple being murdered in Medford, Wisconsin. They were slaughtered in their own home with no signs of forced entry and when the police asked their kid daughter, who was left unharmed, about it she said it was a clown.

"This looks like our kind of thing," I say.

"Should we take it? I mean, are you ready for another hunt?" Sam asks. I know he means well, but the question pisses me off. It makes me feel like he thinks I'm weak.

"Dean, come here, check this out," I say as my answer to Sam.

Dean looks annoyed that I'm pulling him away from his new blonde friend, but he still looks interested. "Yeah?"

"A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of. Looks to me like there might be a hunt." Sam says.

"Yeah. So?"

"So, I told her we'd check it out," Sam says.

Dean sighs and nods, agreeing to take it. We thank Ellen for the help and the distraction and take off in Bobby's minivan.

After a couple minutes, it starts raining and Sam goes over what we read in the file at Ellen's.

"You've gotta be kidding me. A killer clown?" Dean asks.

"Yeah. He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually." Sam says as he clicks away on his laptop.

"And this family was at some carnival that night?" Dean asks.

"Right, right. The, uh, Cooper Carnivals."

"So how do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?"

"Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course."

"Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be clowns?" Dean smirks.

I can't help the grin that forms on my lips too, so I turn towards the window and hope Sam and Dean don't notice. Sam's always been afraid of clowns, ever since he was little. We all have our phobias. Apparently mine is a million bugs, Dean's is planes, and Sam's is clowns.

"Oh, give me a break," Sam scoffs.

Dean chuckles, "You didn't think I'd remember, did you? I mean, come on, you still bust out crying whenever you see Ronald McDonald on the television."

"Well at least I'm not afraid of flying or bugs!" Sam retorts.

"Planes crash!"

"And for the record, we were all almost eaten to death by a millions bugs," I glare at the back of Sam's head.

"And apparently clowns kill!" Sam says.

Dean sighs, "So these types of murders, they ever happen before?"

"Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O. It happened three times, three different locales."

"It's weird, though, I'm mean if it is a spirit it's usually bound to a specific locale, you know, a house, or a town."

"So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" I ask, agreeing with Dean.

"Cursed object, maybe. Spirit attaches itself to something and the, uh, carnival carries it around with them." Dean suggests.

"Great. Paranormal scavenger hunt," Sam frowns.

"Well, this case was your idea. By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job."

"Actually it was Allie's idea to take it so quickly."

"You were the one that asked for the file in the first place," I say defensively.

"So?"

"It's just... not like you, that's all." Dean says. "I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt."

"I don't know, I just think, this job, it's what Dad would have wanted us to do."

I bite my tongue and hold back from echoing the nasty words that are begging to be said out loud. Sam never cared about what Dad wanted until now. Until he was dead.

"What Dad would have wanted?" Dean asks, catching on to my thoughts too.

"Yeah, so?" Sam asks.

I wait for Dean to say something which would no doubt start an argument that would slowly grow into a fight. But Dean holds back and shakes his head.

"Nothin'."

An hour later, Dean pulls up to a big colorful carnival. Large tents surround the perimeter, children and teenagers run around the area laughing, holding large stuffed animals, and stuffing their faces with cotton candy and funnel cakes.

I've never actually been to the carnival before. But they're creepier than I imagined. Not only does the current case of killer clowns ruin my childhood's perspective of carnivals, but also the creepy men walking around and giving teenaged girls weird looks. The worst part those men work here.

"Check it out. Five-oh," Dean points his thumb towards a couple of detectives talking to people in uniform. He leaves Sam and I to talk to the cops.

"So," Sam says, "Are you in the mood for ice cream? My treat." I look at Sam angrily, thinking he was mentioning food because of my coping mechanisms, and the fact that its been a while since I last ate. Sam holds his hands up in surrender, "What? Just figured that's what Dad would've done if he ever took us to one of these things."

"Oh," I look down, feeling a little guilty. I think Sam wants to bring as much positivity to this family as possible, and here I am snapping at him like a young brat. "Sorry, but, uh, thanks. I'm not that hungry anyway."

"Okay," Sam says. I know he wants to say something more about it – about being hungry. But he keeps his mouth shut, and I am grateful.

A small woman, about three feet tall, walks past Sam and I wearing a clown outfit. She and Sam have a staring contest as she walks by us. Sam swallows nervously and he looks like he's about to pee his pants.

"Really?" I cock my head to look at Sam in bewilderment. Sam has more than three feet on her. She could be an axe murderer and Sam could take her down no problem, but just because she's wearing a clown costume, Sam's basically frozen in terror.

"Did you get her number?" Dean smirks, walking back to us.

Sam ignores him and scowls, "More murders?"

"Two more last night." Dean answers. "Apparently they were ripped to shreds. And they had a little boy with them."

"Who fingered a clown," Sam says. Dean and I furrow our brows simultaneously at Sam's weird wording, but he doesn't seem to think he said anything weird. "What?"

Dean coughs, "Yeah, a clown, who apparently vanished into thin air."

"Dean, you know, looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. They could be anything."

"Well, it's bound to give off EMF, so we'll just have to scan everything."

"Well that's nice and…inconspicuous," I grin sarcastically. There is no way we could go through every inch of this carnival and not get caught by someone who works here.

Something catches Dean's eye behind me, and I turn around to see what he's looking at. A large red and white Help Wanted sign plastered on a tent.

"I guess we'll just have to blend in," Dean smirks.

"I'd rather take the risk of getting caught," I say, "Hell, I'd rather drop the case, then work at this carnival."

Dean shakes his head, "Oh, you're not applying for this job." Sam looks confused and annoyed that I don't have to work for these creeps but he does. "I see the way these guys around here look at chicks. It's like they've never seen a woman before. You can be our eyes on the outside."

"Deal."

While Sam and Dean leave me for their interview, I take the chance to make a phone call to Chris. Although he wanted to stay with me at Bobby's after we came home from the hospital, we both decided it was best to give each other some space while I process my Dad's death. Plus, his sister called and needed help with the baby, and he felt bad saying no.

I don't know where Chris and I stand in our relationship. Are we together? Are we friends? Or should we even be talking to each other again in the first place? To be honest, I don't know the answer to that. All I know is that when he's around, I'm happy and I feel safe. And since its been almost two weeks since I've last seen him, I'm really starting to miss him.

"Hello?" Chris answers. In the background I can hear a baby crying.

"Hey, Chris. It's Allie," I grin at the sound of his voice.

"Allie," Chris sounds pleasantly surprised. "Hey, hold on let me go somewhere quieter." I hear shuffling coming from the other end and the sound of a door shutting. Then I couldn't hear the baby. "Sorry, the baby doesn't like when my sister changes her diaper."

"It's okay." I grin to myself when I think of Chris around a baby. On the outside, he looks like a big tough guy who couldn't give a rat's ass about anything, but on the inside, he's secretly a big softy. In a way, he reminds me of Dean in that way. "How's your sister?"

"Ever since her boyfriend ran out on her, its been difficult, but things have been easier with me here. But I don't know how long I can stay here. I love her and the baby and everything, but I'm a hunter. If I go another week wiping a baby's butt and not shooting something, I think I'm going to go crazy," He chuckles softly. He says that, but I know he would stay for as long as his sister needs him to. "What about you? How are you doing?"

"Well, Winchesters aren't really the best at sharing our feelings, so yesterday was really the first day we starting communicating again. Now we're working a case in Wisconsin. Although he hasn't admitted to it, Sam thinks this case will bring us closer together again, but I think the case is just a good distraction."

"You guys will get through it. I know you will. What kind of case are you working? Do you need any help?"

"Get this, it's a case about killer clowns. They're tearing parents apart, and I mean that very literally. But as far as your help goes, I think we have everything under control. Plus, I don't think you being here would go over well with Dean."

Chris sighs, "Yeah, you're probably right. Is he okay with you talking to me again?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. He hasn't said anything to me about you being at the hospital and he has no idea that I'm talking to you right now. But I can take a guess and say he probably wouldn't be too happy with either of us."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Chris says. "Well look, I don't want to cause anymore problems with your family, but I'll always be here if you need me or just want to call me."

I grin to myself, "Thanks Chris." I glance over my shoulder and see Sam and Dean walking out of the owner's tent and coming my way. "My brothers are coming back. I'll call you later."

"Sounds good. Bye Als."

"Bye," I frown. I hated that phone calls were our only way of communicating right now. I miss his touch and his smile.

"Who was that?" Dean asks.

"Uh," I think about lying to Dean and saying it was Bobby. But then I remember Dean and I are already bothered with each other so telling him it's his ex friend and my ex boyfriend doesn't seem like it would do much damage anyway. "Chris."

Dean shakes his head and pokes his tongue inside his cheek, sarcastically grinning, "You never fail to disappoint do ya?"

"You know what, I'm not having this conversation with you," I say, turning to Sam. "How did the interview go?"

"Good. We got the jobs," Sam shrugs.

"Good."

Dean drops the "Chris" topic and turns to Sam as well, "What did you mean by saying you don't want to go back to school. Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know saying it?" Dean asks. Sam must've said that back at their interview. "Sam?"

"I don't know," Sam says hesitantly.

"You don't know? I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State."

"I'm having second thoughts," Sam says.

"Really?" I ask. I never thought Sam would ever choose the hunting life over a normal life. Not since we were 18.

"Yeah. I think. Dad would have wanted to me stick with the job."

Huh. Dad wanted him to stick to the job when Sam was 18 too, but he didn't seem to give a shit then. Funny how death changes one's perspective.

"Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted?" Dean echoes my thoughts. "You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam."

"Since he died, okay?" Sam snaps. "Do you have a problem with that?"

I look at Dean who I thought would have answered yes and then we all would have gotten into one big fight. Instead, he shakes his head. "Nah, I don't have a problem at all."

Liar.

While Sam and Dean change into their red jumpsuits Cooper is making them wear to pick up trash, I walk around the place listening for any kid to mention a clown. I'm also hiding an EMF reader in my jacket pocket, waiting for it to beep wildly around a cursed object, but I get jack.

As I walk around, I see Sam walking out of the funhouse with a trash bag in his hand and a thoughtful look on his face. I walk over to him to see what he's thinking about.

"What's on your mind, Sasquatch?" I ask.

Sam scowls but says, "What if the spirit isn't attached to a cursed object, what if it's attached to its own remains?"

"Did anything in the funhouse give off EMF?" I ask.

"Well, no, but…"

"I mean, I guess it's worth checking out considering we have nothing else to go off of," I say.

"I'll call Dean," Sam says, dialing Dean's number.

"What took you so long?" Sam asks Dean as he approaches us ten minutes later.

Dean shakes his head disheveled. "Long story."

"Mommy, look at the clown!" A squeaky voice comes from a tiny little girl behind us. Instantly, the three of us snap in the direction of her pointer finger. But we don't see anything.

"What clown?" Her mother asks. "Come on, sweetie, come on."

"I got her," I sigh, leaving the two of them to inconspicuously follow the mom and her little girl to their car.

I follow them to the parking lot, pretending to get in my own car as I watch them get into theirs. I make note of their license plate as they pull out into the main road.

When Sam and Dean get off their "shifts" they meet me by the impala. I tell Sam the license plate number, and he tracks it to their address. Dean hits the gas pedal and takes us to a small neighborhood about fifteen minutes, away. From there, we wait until we see a killer clown walk through their front yard or however it likes to happen.

"Dean, I cannot believe you told Papazian about the homicidal phantom clown." Sam says, annoyed and frustrated.

"I told him an urban legend about a homicidal phantom clown, I never said it was real."

Dean pulls out his gun and cocks it, preparing to shoot at a man with a rainbow afro and baggy colorful clothes. Sam reaches his hands out to shove Dean's arms down.

"Keep that down!" Sam hisses.

"Oh, and get this. I mentioned the Bunker Brother's Circus in '81 and their, uh, evil clown apocalypse? Guess what."

"What?"

"Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager."

"So you think whatever the spirit's attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?" I ask.

"Something like that," Dean says.

I shake my head, looking out the window. Spirits and demons, that's something I can wrap my head around. I could even get behind hunting down a vampire. But clowns?
"I can't believe we keep talking about clowns."

I must've fallen asleep in the backseat because next thing I know, Sam's shaking both Dean and I awake and quickly getting out of the car.

We sneak through the front door that the girl left unlocked after welcoming in the phantom clown. We hide in their living room behind furniture until we can get a clear image of the clown or we can hear the girl or the screams. But we hope to kill the clown before we hear the screams.

I hear the pitter patter of the girl's light feet walking down the hallway. "Wanna see Mommy and Daddy? They're upstairs." I hear her say.

At that, Sam leaps out from behind the wall and grabs the girl, taking her away from the creepy clown, who might I add is really really really really creepy. Dean and I shoot at the clown with rock salt bullets, but the clown doesn't disappear into dust like other spirits. Instead, the clown turns and leaps out the window, disappearing into the wind.

"What's going on out here?" A deep male voice yells from the top of the stairs.

The parents come running downstairs to see what the chaos is about. When their eyes land on Sam holding their daughter back, they immediately flip.

"Oh my god, what are you doing to my daughter?" The mother screams.

How the hell do we explain to this family that we weren't robbing your house nor harming your daughter, but we were hunting a killer clown that your daughter let in through the front door? Well, I don't know how you explain that so instead, we run as fast as can to the car and speed out of there before the family can call the cops.

Once we felt that we were far away enough to not be followed or recognized by the police, Dean pulls Bobby's crappy minivan to the side of the road so we can ditch the car just in case.

Sam and Dean start grabbing all of your bags out of the trunk including the license plates.

"You really think they saw our plates?" Sam asks.

"I don't want to take the chance. Besides, I hate this friggin' thing anyway," Dean says.

We start walking along the side of the road. I don't know exactly where we're going, but I'm too distracted, thinking about that stupid creepy clown.

"I don't think the clown is a spirit," I echo my thoughts out loud, wanting to hear what my brothers thought about my theory. "I mean, that rock salt hit something solid."

"Yeah, a person?" Sam says, "Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?"

"Yeah, and dresses up as a clown for kicks? You see anything in Dad's journal?" Dean asks Sam.

"Nope," Sam says, pulling out his cell phone instead of Dad's journal.

"Who are you calling?" I ask.

"Maybe Ellen or that guy Ash'll know something." Sam tilts his head in wonder, "Hey, you think, uh, you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?"

"No way," Dean shakes his head and scoffs like the question was so ridiculous.

"Then why didn't he tell us about her?"

"I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out," Dean shrugs.

I stay quiet, trying to convince myself that Dean was right and that Dad didn't have a fling with Ellen. It's not that I don't like Ellen, it's just uncomfortable to think of Dad with any other woman but Mom. I'm not naïve, I'm just stubborn to believe it.

"Yeah. You ever notice Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?" Sam says. Dean nods, getting silent and broody all of a sudden. Sam notices and lowers the phone, shaking his head, "Well, don't get all maudlin on me, man."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this 'strong silent' thing of yours, it's crap," Sam calls Dean out. I clench my teeth slightly irritated that Sam is bringing this up now. I know my brothers like I know the back of my hand. This is just going to cause a fight.

"Oh, god," Dean rolls his eyes.

"I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you felt about the man. You too Allie."

"You know what, back off, all right? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to – "

"No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Dude, I'm okay. I'm okay, okay? I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm going to start throwing punches," Dean snaps and turns to face Sam with a cold expression, "These are your issues, quit dumping them on me!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't, it's too little, too late."

Sam's eyes fall and his lips turn down into a frown. I feel bad for Sam. Maybe Dean is right, Sam probably feels guilty about how he treated Dad right before he died, but I don't think there's anything wrong with that. Hell, I feel guilty too. But I think Sam was just trying to help because Dean does tend to eventually explode when he holds his emotions in for too long. And because Sam was trying to prevent that from happening, Dean lashed out at him.

"Why are you saying this to me?" Sam asks softly, hurt evident in his voice.

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this. I'm dealing with Dad's death! Are you?" Dean looks down to look at me, "Are you?"

I'll admit, I'm not dealing with Dad's death in the right way. Every time he comes to mind, I find a way to distract myself. I know it's not healthy and I know its only hurting me both physically and emotionally. But I'm not the one picking fights here. I'm not in denial.

"Sam, why don't you go call Ellen," I refuse to meet Dean's eye and motion for Sam to walk away by drifting my eyes towards the tree.

Sam nods slowly and walks away without saying anything else. As Sam dials her number, Dean and I start our trek down the road again. Sam follows but stays a couple feet to the side to have his conversation with Ellen.

Walking next to Dean is awkward. We're both annoyed with each other, that much is very prevalent. But if Dean feels anyway like me, he's also feeling the need to comfort me just like I want to comfort him. So now its uncomfortable because neither of us know what to do.

"You need to let up on Sam," I tell him, having some sympathy for my twin brother. "He's just trying to help."

"He needs to help himself," Dean says.

"We all need to help ourselves," I stop, whipping around to look him dead in the eyes. Dean sighs and stops, turning towards me too. "Silence helps you, distraction helps me, and talking about it helps Sam. I get it. Sam pestering you is annoying, but guess what? You're silent built up anger is annoying, and you made it clear that I'm being annoying too. Okay? I get it. But don't take it out on Sam. He doesn't need that extra weight on his shoulders."

Before Dean can say anything, not that he really wanted to, Sam comes back hanging up the phone. Luckily, he doesn't notice the tension between Dean and I. He's too focused on what he and Ellen were talking about.

"Rakshasa," Sam says.

"What's that?" I ask.

"Ellen's best guess. It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures, they appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited."

"So they dress up like clowns, and the children invite them in." Dean says.

"Yeah."

"Why don't they just munch on the kids?" Dean asks.

"No idea. Not enough meat on the bones, maybe?" Sam shrugs.

"What else did you find out?" I ask, not liking the thought of clowns taking a bite out of a small child.

"Well, apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects."

"Nice," Dean says.

"Yeah, and they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years. Slow metabolism, I guess."

"Well, that makes sense, I mean, the Carnival today, the Bunker Brothers' in '81." I say.

"Right. Probably more before that," Sam says.

Dean looks at Sam thoughtfully as an idea pops into his head, "Hey Sam, who do we know that worked both shows?"

Sam thinks about it, "Cooper?"

"Cooper," Dean confirms with a nod.

"Who is Cooper?" I ask.

"The guy who runs the Carnival," Sam says. "Mine and Dean's boss, technically. You know, that picture of his father, that looked just like him."

"You think maybe it was him?" Dean asks.

"Well, who knows how old he is?"

"Did Ellen say how to kill him?" I ask.

"Legend goes, a dagger made of pure brass."

Dean nods, "I think I know where to get one of those."

"Well, before we go stabbing things into Cooper, we're going to want to make damn sure it's him." Sam says.

You would think now that he's trying to lead by Dad's example he'd be fine with shooting first and asking questions later. Although I do get his point. It would suck to kill an innocent human being.

"Oh, you're such a stickler for details, Sammy." Dean says sarcastically. "All right, I'll round up the blade, you and Allie go check if Cooper's got bedbugs."

Sam takes me to Cooper's trailer and has me pick the lock. We sneak through the dark trailer, and luckily Cooper isn't here. Quickly, Sam and I pull out our knives and start cutting through his mattress.

"Who would've thought cutting through a mattress would be hard," I mutter as I try to pull my knife through the yellowing fabric. So much for all the exercise I was doing. I feel so weak.

Sam doesn't answer me. He can't because we're silenced by the sound of a shot gun cocking behind us. My eyes snap up to meet Sam's who's looking behind with large eyes and a surprised expression.

"What do you think you're doing? A man says behind me.

Cautiously, I turn around. Pointing a gun at me is an older man I don't recognize but Sam seems to. So my guess is that this is Cooper.

Sam comes up with an excuse, saying he lost his phone and thought that Cooper might have picked it up and taken it to his trailer for safe keeping. I don't think Cooper bought it because he kept glancing at Sam and I as if we were in here for some other inappropriate reason. Either way, he let us leave without a bullet through our chests. Sam and I ran out of there. Fast.

Running to the same small clearing as us, Dean stumbles into us, constantly looking behind him as if someone or something was following him.

"Hey! Hey." Sam catches him, "So, Cooper thinks we're Peeping Toms, but it's not him."

"Yeah, so I gathered." Dean huffs, "It's the blind guy, he's here somewhere."

"Well, did you get –"

Dean cuts me off, already knowing what I was going to ask. "The brass blade? No, it's been one of those days."

"I got an idea," Sam says, looking between the two of us. "Come on."

Dean and I follow Sam into the fun house. Inside, the walls are painted bright yellow and orange, the floors swerve to throw people off balance, and mirrors line the wall in every direction, making me run into them two too many times.

Separating Dean and I from Sam, a door slams shut between us.

"Sam!" Dean pounds on the door, wiggling the door knob, and throwing his shoulder into it. But the door didn't lock naturally. There is no way we can get it open.

"Dean! Find the maze, okay?" Sam shouts from the other side.

"Come on," I grab Dean's wrist and try leading us through the fun house.

Maybe I should be lucky that Dad didn't take me to the carnival when I was young. This funhouse is far from fun. In fact, it's annoying. Dean and I fumble on our feet, we walk into mirror walls, and the terrible music overheard blares so loudly I can't hear myself think. But thankfully, we find Sam in less than five minutes.

"Hey," Dean says.

"Hey! Where is it?" Sam asks, referring to the clown.

"I don't know, I mean, shouldn't we see its clothes walking around?"

Sam walks towards the pipe organ that is playing the ear piercing music. That's when I realize Sam's attraction to it. It's brass.

Before I can help Sam rip a piece off, four knives fly across the room, ripping through my shirt and pinning me to the wall. Another one attaches to the sleeve by my wrist. I look over and find Dean in the same compromising position.

"Sam!" I yell.

Sam rips the brass pipe off the organ and slowly saunters forward. He holds out the brass pipe threateningly. Of all people, of course Sam isn't the one pinned to the wall, making him the one responsible for killing his biggest fear. A clown.

"Where is it?" Sam yells back at us.

"I don't know," Dean says, struggling against the knives.

Dean leans as close to the steaming organ as he can and pulls a lever. More steam than before fills the room and because of that, I can make out a faint outline of the Rakshasa.

"Sam, behind you! Behind you!" I scream.

Without looking, Sam whips around and stabs the pipe blindly in front of him. It impales the Rakshasa, who is still invisible, but we can all see blood physically pouring out of it's body from the wound.

Dean frees himself from the knives and rips mine out of the wall as well. We run to Sam and look down at where the creature has fallen. But all we can see are clothes and a blood pipe. No body.

"I hate funhouses," I grumble and walk away from the dead Rakshasa.

After the hunt, we go to back to Ellen's to find Ash and to hear what kind of information he's dug up while we were gone.

"You three did a hell of a job. Your dad would be proud," Ellen says as she sets three beers on the bar for us.

"Thanks," Sam says, offering a small grin.

Jo walks around and sits on the other side of Dean, giving Sam and I a look that tells us to get lost. Although I hate being told what to do by people I barely know, I bite my tongue and follow Sam who politely excuses himself so Dean and Jo can have their moment.

"You know, I heard you talking to Dean while I was on the phone with Ellen," Sam says quietly as we stand by the pool table. "Thanks for sticking up for me."

"I'm sure deep down Dean appreciates that you care, but too far into his head to realize that," I tell him, taking a couple of large gulps from my beer.

"I just want to help," Sam says solemnly.

"I know you do. But losing Dad – " My voice cracks and I stop myself from looking even weaker in front of my brother. I take a deep breath and blink the tears away from my eyes. "We all just have to deal with that in our own way."

The back swinging doors open and Ash marches through. He looks pleasantly surprised to see us here and asks, "Where you guys been? Been waitin' for ya."

"We were working a job, Ash," Sam reminds him. Ash tilts his head, still puzzled. "Clowns?"

"Clowns?" Ash exasperates. "What the fu –"

"You got something for us, Ash?" Dean cuts him off. Just like Sam and I, he's just as anxious to hear what Ash had found while we were gone.

Ash nods and sets his laptop down on one of the high top tables. Dean walks away from Jo at the bar and stands next to Sam and I.

"Did you find the demon?" Sam asks.

"It's nowhere around." Ash answers, "At least, nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like Divine on dog dookie."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world. my rig'll go off. Like a fire alarm."

"Ash, where did you learn to do all this?" I ask, amazed that he could come up with this kind of information from the file we gave him earlier.

"M.I.T," Ash says, shocking all of us. "Before I got bounced for…fighting," He chooses his words wisely.

"M.I.T?"

"It's a school in Boston," Ash says, thinking that's the reason as to why I was questioning the school. But really I was questioning how the hell he got accepted there in the first place.

"Okay." Dean focuses us again, "You give us a call as soon as you know something?"

Ash nods, "Si, si, compadre."

Dean takes one last sip of his beer and starts shrugging on his leather jacket, indicating to Sam and I that it is time to go.

"Hey, listen," Ellen stops us, "If you kids need a place to stay I've got a couple beds out back."

Dean nods, "Thanks, but no. There's something I gotta finish."

"Okay."

Sam and I share a look and follow Dean out the door, afraid that the three of us are just going to fall into the same routine once we get back to Bobby's.

SAM'S POV:

Dean immediately started working on his car the day after we got back to Bobby's. Despite the hot summer sun, he'd rather be under his wheels than talk to either Allie or I. I can see it starting to affect my sister. Luckily, she's stopped over working herself and she's slowly starting to eat more, which is good, but I know she's still worried about Dean. I also know she's afraid to talk to him.

I hate seeing my siblings hurt when I know there's something I can do to help. It might take a couple of tries, but I will stop at nothing to make sure my brother and sister are all right. So if man-ing up and admitting to Dean what he already told me is what I have to do then so be it.

I walk out in the thick heat towards Dean and his precious "baby."

"You were right," I tell him.

Dean slowly turns around, wiping his hands on his greasy towel. "About what?"

"About me and dad. I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know he died thinking that I hate him. So you're right. What I'm doing right now, it's too little. It's too late." My stomach twists in knots just thinking about it. I try taking a deep breath so that I can go on. "I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I'm not all right. Not at all. But neither are you. And neither is Allie. That much I know." Dean doesn't say anything back, which I take note of as he's never going to respond. So I take the hint and leave. "I'll let you get back to work."

ALLIE'S POV:

I watch from the window as Sam talked to Dean. Although I don't know what they're talking about, the conversation is short lived and Sam walks away frowning. I watch as Dean stays still for a moment until Sam is out of his sight, walking up the front steps of the house. Sam makes eye contact with me as he enters Bobby's study. He doesn't say anything to me. He just picks up a book and goes upstairs to his room.

I look back out the window where Dean has turned to look at his car again. He bends down and picks up what looks to be a crowbar. He trudges towards one of Bobby's junk cars, and like a light switch, Dean goes from depressed to angry. He smashes the closest car with the crow bar, breaking the window and making dents into the side. Then he turns to his own car and starts beating the trunk with his chosen weapon.

My mouth drops open as he destructs his own car. His "baby." I contemplate going out there and stopping him, but I don't move. Dean needs this.

Dean drops the crowbar and looks back at the house that Sam disappeared in helplessly. He looks broken, and it tears my heart in two. Finally Dean expressed some emotion. Finally he can start moving on in a healthy manner.

Now its my turn.