Sam lay sleepless; head pillowed on his folded hands"
It was dark within the womb like motel room and Sam could hear the reassuring sound of Dean's breathing in out, in out as his brother slept peacefully in the bed next to the door.
Through the soft flicker of moonlight that spread through the slats in the blinds Sam could see the luminous glow of Dean's slinky, red and yellow, like a circus tent maybe.
Sam laughed wryly to himself; he had never even visited a circus until that case years ago so he had no idea where his fear of clowns came from. He had been scared of them since he was a kid, hated their painted faces, garish lips and baggy clothing. He recalled being in 'Plucky's' as a child, the taste of the ice cream, the false jollity of the hosts. Maybe he had grown to hate clowns then and had never really gotten over his fear of them – until tonight maybe. He shuddered; he could still feel the aches and pains in his body from where they had punched him, imagined his skin was a mass of bruises, all the colours of the rainbow and more.
He sighed and fixed his eyes on the slinky again. He wondered what a circus would have been like. In his mind's eye he imagined him and Dean as children, Dean leading him as always, holding his hand, wiping his mouth, trying to brush down his uncontrollable hair. He could see the vendors selling cotton candy and souvenirs, see Dean's delight at the whole thing, the garish colours, the women in flimsy clothing, the smell of sawdust and straw.
In Sam's mind there are no clowns in the circus; there are animals, performing dogs, a lion tamer, elephants that lumber around the ring with girls on their back. There is the trapeze artist flying through the air, the strongman, the magician and the high wire. Sam smiles and sighs against the pain, his mind full of dazzling images and bright lights. He wished they had been able to visit a place like this, a place that was both magical and fun, nothing supernatural or grim about it. He realises, with a jolt, that they never went to the zoo, never visited the boardwalk, the only times they were allowed to be kids is when Bobby took them and threw a baseball about with them. He swallowed hard and fast before his eyes stung with unwelcome tears.
Dean gave a little sigh in his sleep and the rustle of the sheets made Sam think he was turning over. He smiled to himself and rolled onto his own side, long arm reaching out so that he could just about touch Dean's bare arm with his fingers, trail the tips up and down from bicep to wrist.
"Sammy…" Dean sounds out of it but happy, "dude – chick flick."
"I…" he has no explanation, not really, just wanted Dean to see what was in his head. For once there are no visions, hallucinations; no Lucifer whispering lies and half truths in his ear. Sam can't help but smile as a juggler tosses plates in the air and the crowd gasp at his skills, "I just wanted you to see it too."
"See what clown boy?" Dean laughs a little, reaches his arm that little bit further so that Sam can grab his hand and hold on to it, grounding himself.
"The circus Dean," he knows it sounds lame, "and there are no clowns."
"Not quite over that fear yet Plucky?" Dean's laugh is louder now but gentle, "it's your circus Sam – you can see what you want."
"You want to see it too Dean?" Stupid question but his brother breathes out through his nose and squeezes back.
"Yeah Sammy – tell me about it."
So he does…