Wow, 14 followers already?! I'm flattered, guys, really. Just so you folks know I'm looking for a beta reader or two, so if anyone's interested feel free to drop me a message!


Dean knew that he hated carnival rides. He'd known since the age of nine, when he'd thrown up on a rollercoaster the first and only time he'd visited one of those places. Ever since then he'd avoided them like the plague. Why, then, had he decided to try this one, even though he knew about his limitations?

To be frank he wasn't entirely sure. In his defense, it's difficult to make sense of things when you're hurtling through the air at fifty miles per hour.

The world around him was a terrible blur, and the world within him - namely his stomach - turned to absolute turmoil. Faster and faster, the ride gained speed. Dean could feel himself being lifted up out of his seat, and his heart leapt to his throat. A second later, the pie he had eaten earlier joined it.

Then it was shooting out of his mouth.

He was vaguely aware of horrified cries from below, and managed a tiny, amused smile before his upward momentum stopped and then he was falling. A scream that he would forcefully deny later on escaped him. This was a nightmare. Why had he agreed to do this? Sam was going to laugh at him for years about this. He would have worried about it more, but then he was throwing up again. He clung to the harness holding him in for dear life, screwing his eyes shut.

Finally, it stopped.

He cracked one eye open, glancing around. The harness lifted up, and he stumbled out of his seat. Someone caught his shoulder, and he glanced up. It was one of the employees. He looked concerned and a little bit amused. "You okay?"

Dean took a shaky breath and brushed his hand off of him, straightening. "Yeah, I'm good." He staggered towards the exit, trying to resist the urge to throw up again.

There was no way he was ever going to do that again.

He found a bench and sat down, taking a moment to catch his bearings. Sam. Where was Sam? He lifted his head up and looked around. Luckily, his brother was easy to spot; it was difficult not to be when you were the human equivalent of the Chrysler building.

Which was why he should have picked him out of the crowd immediately.

Dean frowned in worry, getting to his feet. Where was Sam? He turned in a circle, looking for the telltale mop of hair and whiny expression.

Nothing.

He felt his heart pick up. Sam had been there just a minute ago. He wouldn't have just run off unless something had happened. "Sam?!" he called.

His phone rang.

He picked it up quickly, putting it to his ear. "Sam?"

Sam sounded out of breath. "Hey, good to hear you… survived the ride. I saw him."

Dean was halfway through creating a snappy comeback when his brain processed what Sam had just said. He quickly focused on the matter at hand. "Saw who? The guy from the pictures?"

"Yeah. I chased him but he disappeared. Dean, this is a really powerful one."

He swore. "Well, no rest for the wicked I guess. Should we call Bobby?"

Sam was quiet for a moment. "… Not yet. I think we can handle it."

Dean nodded. "Right, okay. Where are you?"

"Um… the kid zone. I'll come back to you."

He snorted. "Seriously? You chased the dude into a ball pit or something?"

Sam cleared his throat "… House of mirrors, actually."

Dean laughed, grinning. "Right. Well, get your ass back here. We've got a demon to catch."